Short Stories with Tragic Endings
by Faery Goddyss
Summary: Kenny's final death brings Kyle back to South Park after 11 years of living in California. Little does he or Stan know, but even in death Kenny has plans for his two estranged friends. StanBebe ending in StanKyle. COMPLETE w/ EPI.
1. Kyle

**AN: **This story isn't really a bunch of short stories with tragic endings.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own SP

**Warnings: **Swearing, _mild_ slash which won't happen for a seriously long time. Patience is definitely needed while reading this. You've been warned.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

_Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening_. -Sir Walter Scott

**Kyle**

I look out my left window as I drive down the snowy road. I'm ten years older and I'm finally returning to my old hometown of South Park, Colorado. Since my parents had first moved to San Francisco they hadn't really looked back.

Seeing a couple kids in the distance sledding, my mind remembers a similar setting with Stan and me when we were younger. Even though we'd been best friends since kindergarten, after leaving South Park we lost contact. At first we had written, called, and emailed each other. Stan even got to spend a week with my family in California.

But as we grew up apart it became harder for us to keep in contact. Especially when my father got promoted and we ended up moving to another area in San Francisco. Our tight childhood friendship hadn't been able to survive a year of distance.

Now I'm back, but not for the reason I would have wanted. What finally convinced me to return to this small mountain town was not the mere idea of seeing old friends like it should have been. Instead, it's a funeral. Kenny has finally lost his tormented battle with God and hasn't returned after his last death.

I'm not looking forward to the funeral and not for obvious reasons.

Imagine my surprise while I was typing up an essay in my dorm room at Stanford when I received a call from a voice I barely recognized. It was a voice from the past, an older and much angrier voice. How Stan had gotten my number I hadn't asked. I simply agreed to come to the funeral when I heard the news and tied up a few ends on my side before heading out the next day to South Park.

As I near the town I subconsciously pat my straight and significantly darker red locks, play with one of my two earrings, and adjust my dark sunglasses. I ignore the gleam my sun kissed skin makes when compared to the snowy white area. To say I looked different is maybe an understatement. California had straightened and darkened my hair, and it gave me a permanent tan I didn't think red heads could get.

I know I look different.

I take a deep breath when I see the sign that reads 'South Park.' I'm here, back home… no, not really. California is home to me now. I glance down at the digital clock that is on the radio. I still have a good hour to be at the church for the funeral and knowing this town, everyone is probably gathered at someone's house going over how much of a shame it is that Kenny has died.

I decide to pass on finding that house. I don't want to talk with my old friends and old neighbors just yet. Instead I decide to eat something to pass the time along. I cruise down the main street of downtown South Park looking for some place of interest.

The town looks exactly the same. Major business chains have still not managed to take over this town, and all that remains are the local places. Though, I stop my car in front of a restaurant I don't remember from my childhood called 'Cherry Kiss.'

It sounds a bit fruity, but it looks good enough so I park and get out. I inhale the mountain air and look around. So far, I don't recognize anyone. Walking into the little restaurant I decide I like it right away. Soups, salads and sandwiches; the food my new west coast body prefers is what's offered. The place isn't packed, but it does have quite a few people talking and eating. No one is wearing black though, a good sign.

Making my way to the counter as I look at the menu, I become aware that I'm being looked at by every person in the restaurant. I sigh in slight annoyance. Does everyone have to blatantly stare? I remember quickly something. In a restaurant of a town full of people where the normal dress code is t-shirt and jeans, I stick out like sore thumb in my trendy bright clothing.

As I stare back at the people behind my shades I hear a deep voice.

"What can I get you?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'll have a-" I stop when I turn to look at the person taking my order. "Chef?" I mutter in question at the slightly older, but still plump man I had known in my past.

"You'll have me?" He raises his eyebrows, "sorry you can only have what's on the menu."

He doesn't recognize me. Although I've assumed a large portion of people might not recognize me, I guess I'd hoped the ones that knew me well when I was a kid would. It looks like I'm mistaken.

"No, sorry I'll just have a Turkey and Ham, a side Caesar, and a large water," I respond.

He rings me up and I hand over my card.

"Debt or credit?" He asks automatically and I tell him my preferred payment option.

I watch as he glances at my card before looking back at me curiously. "California?" He asks swiping my card through the computer before handing it back to me. "What's a guy like you doing here in this little town?"

"Business," I mutter out. I'm not sure why I'm reluctant to tell Chef who I am. I thought he'd at least glance at my name on my debit card, but I'm not surprised that the sunny Golden Gate background image on the card caught his attention first.

"Business here?" He looks uncertain as he hands me a slip of paper to sign. I scrawl my illegible signature on the slip before handing it back. He gives me my copy of the receipt and continues to look at me curiously.

I say nothing to his inquiry.

"You know kid, you look a little familiar," Chef says titling his head to the side and frowns. "Have we met somewhere?"

Deciding to give him a break I lift my sunglasses over my head and let them rest on my head. Chef's eyes widen as he looks at me. "Kyle-Kyle Broflovski?"

I grin sheepishly and nod. Chef laughs to himself and walks around the counter to give me a tight hug. He then pulls me back to look me over. "Kyle you look and sound completely different."

"Yeah," I say as I become very aware of my appearance.

"How've you been, still in San Francisco?"

"My parents are, I'm at Stanford for school."

"You go to Stanford?" Chef asks and I nod. "Well good for you Kyle. Not that I'm surprised, you always were a bit smarter than the other children."

I say nothing to mention of my old friends but turn the conversation to Chef instead. "You work here now?"

"Not just work, but own," Chef says proudly. I grin, happy for the only adult I've ever trusted.

"I should have guessed, I mean Cherry Kiss?" I laugh as does Chef, but he quickly stops. "What's wrong?" I ask.

He frowns before answering. "Oh, Kyle. I don't know if you've heard, but Kenny's died. For good this time. His funeral's today."

My own smile fades. "I know. That's why I'm back, that's the business I'm here to attend. Stan called me."

He looks surprised, "you and Stan are still friends?"

Are we? No, friends stay in touch so I shake my head.

"I hadn't thought so. I'm actually about to close up shop soon so I can head to the church myself. Why don't I push everyone out, make you your food, and we can go together?"

It sounds perfect, I'm a little apprehensive about arriving there by myself but I shake my head. Even though it'd be nice to show up with Chef there's too much on my mind to bother with having company and trying to keep conversation.

"I think I'd rather show up alone." I tell him.

He nods slowly, after studying me for a long moment. "Well then," he walks back around the counter. "Sit down anywhere and I'll get your lunch."

"Thanks," I give him a tight smile and sit in a far corner away from everyone else. I never thought I'd feel like an outsider in South Park, but I am, and everyone else in the restaurant knows it too.

Eventually Chef walks over and hands over my meal, and instead of going back to work he sits across from me. I welcome his familiarity. Hesitating after taking a bite of my sandwich I have to ask him…

"So… how is everyone?"

Chef sits back awhile and thinks about the question. "When you say everybody, do you mean everybody or Stan?" My eyes dart to the side and out the window before falling back on Chef. "I guess I mean Stan."

"Stan is good. He's going to South Park Community College and he lives in the middle of town."

I stare at Chef. "That's it?" I ask after a length of silence has passed between the two of us.

"I think you should ask Stan yourself how he's doing. You two were inseparable when you were little."

"But that was almost eleven years ago."

"I'm sorry Kyle but it's just not my news to tell."

"News, what sort of news?"

"…Ah fudge it, the cats out of the bag now. Kyle, Stan is getting married."

"Married? He can't get married he's 19!" Chef shrugs as I continue, "who's he marrying, is it Wendy?"

"Wendy? Oh no," Chef shakes his head, "you've been gone too long Kyle. Wendy and her parents moved from South Park five years ago. Apparently they just got tired of the stupidity. In any case, Bebe was pretty upset by the whole thing; they were best friends after all. Stan was there to comfort her and before anyone knows it, they're engaged."

"Jesus Christ…" I whisper out looking at my salad.

"Speaking of which, we'd both better head to the church soon."

"Y-yeah, um, can I change in your bathroom? I'm not dressed for a funeral," I ask gesturing down at my bright clothing.

"Of course, go on ahead. The bathroom is down that narrow hallway to your left."

As I toss out my garbage away I start toward the door heading for my car so I can get my black suit out from the trunk.

"Oh and Kyle?"

I turn to look back, "yeah?"

"It's good to see you back here."

In spite of everything I smile, "thanks Chef."

When I park my car in the parking lot I turn off the ignition and stare. I don't remember the large white church building looking so foreboding when I was younger. I finally get myself out of the car only to stop outside of the double doors, willing myself to take the first steps in order to enter. I take a small tentative one with my right foot, but firmly place it back down in the spot it had been originally. Damn it.

Without looking at my watch I know I'm late, really late. Late to a funeral. No matter the situation, it is never right to be late to a funeral and now I am. Now I have to walk into the church, hoping that no one will notice me as I take a small seat in the back.

People _will_ notice of course.

In the silent mourning of a funeral while the priest talks everyone listens intently; so hard that every sound is heard. With such silence, the opening of a door quickly echoes throughout the room, and people will turn their heads. They'll turn and see me, a few might automatically turn back, maybe mutter an insult to me, the person late to a funeral. But a few eyes will linger, because those few will recognize me.

I can't help but wonder if Stan's noticed I haven't arrived yet, then I chide myself for thinking it. Stan's thoughts are probably not on me, but on the sermon where they should be. I wonder if Bebe is beside him. I wonder if Wendy returned for the funeral. She didn't care much for Kenny, but maybe she felt an obligation to come back. I wonder if she'll see Stan and Bebe sitting together and wonder why they are… But maybe she already knows, maybe she and Bebe kept in contact like Stan and I weren't able to do. She might already know all about the wedding, she could be in it as Bebe's maid of honor…

Focus on the funeral Kyle, I tell myself. The funeral.

It's strange, because even though I haven't seen the guy in years I still remember Kenny well. A lot of friends from my elementary school years I have fuzzy memories of. I hardly remember themmuch, and honestly Kenny should be one of them because he was in the background so often. But he's not, all my memories with him, as with Stan, are ones I can clearly envision. Ones like his perverted personality, I'll never forget that. And of course that orange hoodie, he wore it everyday.

But what sorta hurts the most is my inability to think of his specific facial features. Was he a light blonde or dark? I can't remember. What color were his eyes? Blue, no maybe they were green. I want to be able to remember before I have to see his pale body in a casket. I don't even know what he looks like now. I could end up looking at the body of a complete stranger. The thought of saying goodbye to a body, that I don't recognize…this is why I'm late. I'd been musing too much on the way here and then suddenly as I had been driving everything struck me as hilarious and I had to pull over to laugh.

To laugh at the absurdity of me coming back. I kept thinking what was I doing here? I don't belong here, because I don't know any of these people anymore. I kept thinking would other people do this? Would they attend the funeral of a friend who they haven't seen or spoken to in over a decade? Or was I just crazy and the stress in school had gotten to me? Maybe this was my subconscious's way of telling me to take a break, to go on vacation. But what sort of twisted subconscious thinks going to a funeral is a vacation?

Far too much thinking. And now I'm thinking again. Well, fuck it. I ignore the pull in my stomach and walk to the doors. I step back when they open and a huge swarm of people come out. I jump to the side to avoid their pace. I see all the black and all the lingering tears, and I hear the mutters about the sermon and about Kenny.

And I realize something; I fucking missed the entire service.

**-FG**


	2. Stan

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

Where the hell _is_ he?

It's all I can think as my eyes roam over all the people inside the church. There's people Kenny and I have known all our lives, and as they continue to look over people my eyes meet briefly with an older man who is wearing black rimmed glasses. He nods to me slightly and I nod back before resuming my roam of the attendance. Everyone is milling around conversing softly with each other and all I can do is look for Kyle. I thought back to our short to-the-point conversation we shared just two days ago.

"Hello?" He answered the phone on the first ring.

It took me a moment to respond, because his voice sounded so different, it sounded nothing like it did when we were little. Of course it hadn't, naturally he went through puberty like the rest of the male specie. So the difference should have been expected but for some reason I hadn't.

"Hello?" He asked again, this time he sounded a little annoyed.

"Yeah, Kyle?" I asked, but I knew it was him. I learned from Kenny who learned from Ike that he lived in a single dorm, so it couldn't have been anyone else.

"Yes?"

"It's Stan."

"Stan who?" His confused voice questioned back. And for some reason, that pissed me off.

How dare he not know who I am, I had thought.

"Stan Marsh from South Park," I had answered back angry. I hadn't let him get in another word, but I did hear his voice hitch in the phone. "Look, Kenny… Kenny McKormick died. You remember him don't you, an old friend of ours?" I didn't let him answer. "Well his death is for real this time. The funerals in two days at the same church as always at 2pm, can you go?"

There had been silence on his end for a long time, "yeah," he finally answered.

"Good," I had replied and slammed down the phone in frustration.

That had been harder than I thought it would have been. Bebe had looked over at me as she walked into the living room, "well?" She had asked.

"He's coming," I answered her.

My eyes were on the ground, but I felt her approach and kneel down beside me, rubbing small circles on my back with her hand. "And, how is he?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

"Didn't you want to talk to him?" She had asked puzzled, "see what he's been doing the past 10 years?"

"That seems too weird, to invite him to Kenny's funeral and then go 'so how's life been without me?'"

"Stan," she scorned at me softly.

I interrupted her before she had continued, "leave it alone Bebe." And she had, but now she was eyeing me as my head craned in every which direction trying to catch a glimpse of red hair.

"He might have dyed his hair," she suddenly said knowing exactly what I was looking for. I looked down at her, shaking my head.

"I don't care if he's gone retro hippie goth, Kyle wouldn't dye his hair," I tell her flatly.

"Stan, people change from when they were nine," she protests and I continue to shake my head.

Maybe people do and maybe he did too, but Kyle wouldn't dye his hair. I know Kyle, even if it's been years.

"If everyone would please take their seats, we would like to start the service," said the priest's voice.

I watched as everyone began sitting down in their faded black suits, as Bebe sat I felt her tug at the sleeve of my own suit and I followed slowly, still looking around.

"Excuse me is this seat taken?" A woman I didn't recognize whispered as she began sitting down next to me without waiting for my response.

"Yes actually, it is!" I snap at her and felt as Bebe yanked my sleeve more forcefully.

"Stanley Marsh!" She hissed in my ear warningly before looking over at the woman who looked slightly appalled and frozen in mid-sit. "It's perfectly fine ma'am, please sit down the spot isn't taken." She said, turning her gaze back toward me.

"What are you talking about?" I hissed back to her seething, "that's the spot I'm saving for Kyle and you know it!"

"Kyle isn't here right now! And when he does show up he's not going to sneak up to the front pew in the middle of a sermon! He has better manners than that, more than you do right now I would say! This is a funeral Stan not a football game, you don't get to save seats and have people climb through the middle of them to get to their spot!"

I fold my arms dejectedly as I sit down next to her, leaning into the hard wood benches. She squeezes my arm affectionately and looks at me softly. "I'm sure he's somewhere in the back and just didn't see you, or maybe he's running a little late."

"Who the fuck is late to a funeral?" I mutter annoyed.

"Shh, it's starting and don't swear in church," she responds quietly.

I sigh and look to my right, past Bebe where Cartman has been sitting silently. His arms are resting in his lap and his head is staring straight ahead, as if he's looking at something the rest of us don't see. Since Kenny died people have been slightly worried about him. He hasn't snapped at anyone, called anyone a name, he's just been silent; walking around in a daze not responding to people when they call out to him. People think he's distraught over Kenny's death, but I know better.

I glance back to the front of the church where the priest has begun the sermon. Cartman isn't distraught. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's far from mourning the death of his "friend." He and Kenny have never gotten along and as we all grew older the animosity between them tripled. With Kyle gone, Kenny became the butt of all his inappropriate jokes, until in retaliation Kenny one day fucked him up so hard Cartman landed up in the hospital and Kenny in juvenile hall. They didn't talk since, and here he suddenly appears, uninvited I might add, in the front row for his ex-friends funeral. It wasn't that he suddenly felt ashamed and wanted Kenny's forgiveness. Something was up, and I'd find out later if it killed me.

Throughout the funeral I keep trying to suppress a stinging that's forming in the back of my eyes, I rub them a few times to keep the tears back. No way am I going to cry at Kenny's funeral.

I reach one of my hands over to grab Bebe's and I can see from the corner of my eye as she turns to look over at me. She squeezes my hand and goes back to listening to the sermon. When it's time for people to give personal statements I watch as a select few make their way to the front of the church one by one, leaning against the podium. I tune them all out, none of them really gave a crap about Kenny, not one. I know it, they know it, Kenny knew it and so does the whole town, but we like to pretend they did.

What I want to do is continue my search for Kyle, but I can't spend time searching the whole church being in the front row, it looks too disrespectful; regardless that I care nothing about the pricks giving the speeches.

"It's okay to cry sweetie," Bebe whispers to me, her head down slightly.

No it's not, but I can't explain it to her now. Watching as Kenny's brother starts some clichéd speech my thoughts wander back a week ago when Kenny was still here. It was night, and uncharacteristically warm for being the middle of winter. Kenny and I had borrowed, well more correctly stole, his dad's truck and were using it to stretch out in. Our faces were up looking at the stars in the middle of our old high school's football field.

"Thanks for coming out here with me dude," he had said quietly.

"Yeah, no problem…" I told him. He had been acting funny for the past few weeks and it seemed he had only been getting odder. Wanting to do a lot of reminiscing and revisiting of places we hadn't been to in years together.

"I know you're busy with the wedding plans and all that other shit, so I appreciate you setting some time away for me."

"Kenny," I scowled up at the stars. "You act like I've been ignoring you."

"I know you're not, but you have to admit you've been preoccupied with the wedding."

"Fine," I had muttered. "Why'd you bring me out here for? The stars are nice and all, but any real reason?"

He had been quiet for a really long time, so long that after awhile I figured he fell asleep on me. "Kenny?" I asked, turning my head toward him, but I couldn't get a good look with the limited space between us in the back of the truck and the fact that it was the middle of the night posed a problem too.

"I wrote up a will the other day," he finally spoke.

"A what?"

"A will."

"…why?"

"Did you know that before the military ships you off to some war torn country they make you write out a will? Sick isn't it? Like they believe that you're never coming back home. Doesn't do much to ease nerves." He responded, evading my question.

Or perhaps he hadn't been, I hadn't been sure so I asked, "Are you joining the military?"

"Yeah right Stan."

"Then what's with the will?"

"…don't ask me that right now all right? Just don't, please. I'll get to that."

"…okay…"

"Anyway I wrote one up, and I want you to see it."

"Do you have it on you?"

"Yeah," I heard him fishing through his pockets and saw him pull it out. "Have you got a lighter?" He asked, and I fished through my own pockets retracting one, lighting it and brightening up the white page.

I was surprised; it looked official, complete with signatures. It was typed out neatly and filled with roman numerals and courier new font, with the heading: 'Last Will and Testament of Kenneth (Kenny) McKormick'.

It was pretty long, and a lot of the wording looked pretty heavy. "What's it say?" I asked him.

"The first half of it is just legal shit, doesn't really apply to anyone but lawyers. Read the last couple paragraphs," he tells me.

I moved my lighter down the page as I read, stopping a few times to look at him. His eyes were on the sky and I continued reading. When I was done I took my numb thumb off my lighter, leaving it on the truck to cool down.

"What do you think?" He asked after a few moments, giving me time to absorb everything.

"Kenny-" I started hesitantly, but he stopped me.

"I did pretty well in saving up didn't I?" He sounds really proud, and he should have been, it was a lot of money for someone I thought didn't have a dime to his name, for a 19 yr old especially.

But it had occurred to me then, that Kenny had held two jobs since he was 14, working at a car garage and a small family owned diner outside South Park. In the summer's when me and the rest of our friends would laze around doing nothing, Kenny worked full time, usually ten hour shifts and every so often he'd work at this sleazy bar that had the gall to employ minors. I had once asked Kenny about the place and he had merely shrugged and said, "It's a complete dive but it pays real well, besides I like the manager Dale. He's a good guy."

Before then I hadn't thought to what he was doing with all that money, he had bought a dinky, but efficient car to get him to and from places, but other than that I didn't see where all his money had been going. Apparently it went into a bank account which was raising some fair interest over the years.

"But your parents, your brother," I had started again and once more he cut me off.

"Fuck them, I even made one of those video wills as a back up. They're not getting anything and its all iron clad."

"They're your family," I had said stubbornly.

"The hell they are. To me family isn't blood and genes, it's about who you miss the most when you're away from them, and it definitely isn't the fuckers who raised me. Or that shit of a brother, it's you dude. You're all I really have, and you're the only one I'd ever miss, you and Ky-"

That time I had cut him off, "we haven't even seen or heard from Kyle in damn near 11 years!"

"I don't care," he answered softly. "He was still one of the greatest friends I've ever had, and I want to leave him something when I die for good."

"You're not fucking dying, stop talking like you are!" I had raised my voice in anger, tightening my fists.

Kenny had continued, like he never heard me.

"Stan?"

"What!" I asked seething.

"Make sure that fat fuck doesn't get a _dime, _a fucking dime of this money okay? I hate admitting it, but Cartman's pretty damn smart, and if anyone could bend this will he could, so watch him okay?"

"…yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

Just then my cell phone had gone off, and I snapped open the flip, "hello?" I had asked into the phone, seeing that Kenny was cracking his fingers in the dark. "Hey hon," I continued into the phone to Bebe. "Not too much longer, just go ahead and go to bed. I'll see you when I get back." She talked a little while more before we hung up.

"Sorry about that," I said to Kenny, and it appeared as if he shrugged into the dark. "But it does remind me of something," I went on.

"What?"

"I want you to be my best man."

Even in the darkness I could see his smile, "your best man?"

"Yeah, I meant to ask you weeks ago, but you were so…" I trailed off. I had wanted to ask him just as he started to act a little off, and not quite like himself. Because of that, I had held off on it.

"I know what you mean," he finished for me.

"So, how about it?"

He laughed lightly and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I hadn't seen how my request was so funny. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing really, it's just," he paused. "When we were little I had always thought Kyle would be your best man."

I groaned, I couldn't understand why Kyle was suddenly such a part of our conversations those last couple of weeks with him. I mean of course I thought about him every blue moon when I came across old year books in the garage, but no more than that. Kyle was a friend from the past, you miss them for awhile, but you move on.

Kenny laughed again, "You're pretty sick of me bringing him up aren't you?"

"Just a bit," I had responded.

"Can't be helped, making the will made me think of him. My lawyer flipped when I told him I wanted to leave my life savings and everything I own to just two people, one which I hadn't laid eyes on in over a decade."

"I can't take all that money."

"Of course you can, and you're not taking it all. Kyle gets half."

"No Kenny."

"Think of it as a present, for all those birthday and Christmas presents I skived off giving you."

"We agreed not to buy each other gifts."

"Happy belated birthday and merry belated Christmas Stan."

I paused, "be my best man Kenny, you haven't agreed to it."

He sighed and I saw him rub his forehead in thought.

"No Stan," was his answer. "I can't be your best man."

"Why the hell not?"

"A few reasons," he dropped his hand back down to his side. "One, I wouldn't feel right taking that role. I really don't give a flying fuck what you think, or how long it's been since we've seen him, but that's Kyle's role."

I swore silently to myself, beginning to get angrier.

"Second," he continued. "I won't be around for the wedding."

"What, why not?" I interjected, but he pretended like he hadn't heard me.

"And third, I don't agree to you marrying Bebe. I never have."

I hadn't known where to start asking questions. All three of his reasons floored me, and I wasn't sure which one I wanted to address first. But Kenny seemed patient that night and willing to listen to all the questions I was ready to demand he answer. Before I did I picked my cell phone back up and re-dialed Bebe's number, telling her I'd be hanging out with Kenny the rest of the night.

Bebe nudged me hard, and I blinked a few times, coming out of my daydream. I realized the church was quiet and that all eyes were focused on me. It was my turn to talk about my departed friend.

I cleared my voice and stood up, walking to the center. I glanced at the open casket and looked at Kenny's pale face. Even in death he was smirking. I turned to face the sea of people, coming to the conclusion right away, that Kyle the friend Kenny had left half his life too, was not in any of those pews. The bastard didn't show up.

Someone coughed, and I shook my head, trying to get myself to focus on what I wanted to say. I had practiced it a million times, to myself, the mirror and to the stuffed animal I had given Bebe this past Valentine's Day. But none of it was coming now. All I could do was stare at the people who were staring back at me, waiting for me to start. As I thought of Kenny, and as I saw that Kyle wasn't around, I couldn't help but to get mad looking at all the phonies and the fake tears of people, most of whom I had never seen in my entire life.

Who were some of these assholes anyhow? I wondered to myself. They probably only wanted to be around for the after service and get the free food. None of them loved Kenny, they cared like I did, and I decided to let them know.

"Just who…" I started. "Do you people think you are?"

I could see people exchanging looks and I could see Bebe eyeing me curiously.

"Coming to this funeral, coming up to this podium, talking about a guy none of you knew. Not one of you, not even you two," I looked pointedly at Mr. and Mrs. McKormick, "Gave a shit about the guy in this casket, not one of you."

There were a few gasps and I saw Bebe's jaw drop. "Where were any of you the night Kenny's hamster died when he was 12? How many of you even knew he had a hamster? Where were you," I pointed at a random person. "When Kenny learned how to drive and crashed his car into the pole on 5th street? And you," I adverted my eyes to someone else, "where were you when he got mono and was too tired to go to school for a whole year? Who taught him everything he missed? Who helped him cheat on tests, who bailed him out of jail more times than I want to think about? Who helped him throw up in to trash bins when he learned how to lift from the liquor store and after he drank too much? And most importantly!" I yelled at the top of my lungs as Bebe and my mother approached me, looking to take me back down to my seat. "Most importantly, who went to every single fucking funeral he had in the past? From kindergarten through today, who has been to all 1277 funerals? Me you fuckers, not a single one of you, but me!"

At that Bebe and my mom do drag me back down into my seat with my dad's help. I don't care that I'm getting weird looks, or that some people look annoyed at my outburst. I'm mostly pissed off because most people look guilty, because they know I'm right.

"Um," the priest clears his throat and comes back to the front of the church, "I realize emotions are high," he looks at me sympathetically and I avert my eyes in anger. "But who else would like to say something about Kenny?"

Before any other person can volunteer to do so I stand back up, ripping my arms from Bebe and my mom. "Stan!" They both hiss in unison.

The priest looks at me as I look down at them. "No!" I practically shout. "I'm not sticking around for some other asshole to give a bullshit speech about Kenny!"

I turn on my heel and stomp out of the church the back way, hearing the rabbles float through the crowd of people. I didn't think I could be angrier until I heard the faint voice of someone else offering to talk about Kenny. It's like I never said a damn word, and to all of them, I might as well not have.

I tear my way through town, not looking around, or paying much attention to where I was going. My feet could find the way they always did. I ended up at the bottom of a bridge that ran over a small little creek. The bridge led out of South Park, but you wouldn't realize there was a creek beneath it because originally it was covered in bushes and other foliage. Kenny and I had cleared it out in 6th grade when we had been walking around and had heard the slight flows of water.

It was where we went to drink our first beers, to smoke our first puffs of MJ, the place we'd filter through porn magazines, and it's where we hid all that stuff so our parents wouldn't find any of it. When we got older it was where we'd retreat to hang out when we didn't want people to find us. We both still occasionally smoked a cigarette or drank a beer, but not as heavily as we did when we had been younger and experimenting.

At times it was where we went to break down, because school was too hard, or Shelly was teasing me too much, or Kenny's parents were fighting again. And now I'm using it to cry, because I couldn't keep that promise to Kenny, and I figure of all places for him to understand me breaking down, this place we had found and created together would be the best.

As I drew up my legs, leaning against the cement side that was part of the under bridge, I first only allowed a few tears to spill from my eyes, but before I knew it, I couldn't help the flow, and I dropped my head into my legs, remembering that stupid promise to not cry in the first place. It had been a part of the conversation I had only just thought about in the church and I let the thoughts pick back up where they had left off at.

"I don't even know where to start," I had said slowly, pulling myself up on my elbows to look over at my blonde friend.

"Go for what you really want to know," he said, a small smirk on his lips.

I scowled at him, "You're assuming you think you know what I really want to know first?"

"Yeah of course, you want to know most of all why I won't be at the wedding. And it's simple…it's because I'm dying soon."

"You always die."

"For good this time," he had sounded as if he had thought it out long and hard and had finally reached and accepted that conclusion. But I hadn't cared, because I hated what he had said.

"I said not to say shit like that," I muttered harshly.

"Okay."

But he had mentioned it again that night. "You don't like the idea of me marrying Bebe?" I asked quietly changing to another one of his reasons for him not being my best man.

"Not a bit," he had answered in his common blunt fashion.

"Why?"

"Because you don't belong with her, she's nice and all Stan, but she isn't for you."

"And who is?"

"…"

"I said who is Kenny since you're so damn great at determining who's best for who."

"Well-"

"And you'd better not say that you are, because I'm not afraid to smash your face in."

He laughed at that, "No I don't think it's me, I'm not sure who it is, but it's not Bebe."

I snorted in annoyance.

"Lay back down," he protested veering the subject. "I can't see the big dipper with your head in the goddamn way."

"I'm not in the way, it's over there!" I pointed out to the opposite side of the sky.

I could hear him laughing as I lay back down on the metal of the truck, "oh yeah."

Silence reigned between us again and I watched as he lifted his hands in the air tracing the patterns of the stars with his fingers. "Hey Stan, do you think you could make me a few promises?"

"Depends, what are they?" I asked wearily.

"Nothing bad."

"What are they?"

"You have to promise to do them before I tell you."

"Fine, I promise."

"…at my funeral, you can't cry."

"What? What crap is that! You said you wouldn't say shit like that again!"

"I mean whenever I do die, whether it's tomorrow, next week, or sixty years from now."

"Why the fuck not? That's what funerals are for, crying and mourning."

"You can mourn all you want, just don't cry."

"Why?"

"Because I hate when people do." That had been the answer he had left me with, he hadn't bothered expanding. "Don't forget you already promised you wouldn't."

"I know for fuck's sake. What's the other promise?"

"This one's really important to me," he started and then paused to think. "Promise you'll get Kyle to come to my funeral, no matter what."

I had turned my head to look at him, surprised when I saw he was already looking at me. Our noses were inches apart and I could make out the dull smell of mint from when he had been chewing gum earlier.

"I don't know where he is." I had told him quietly.

"He's at Stanford University." He had responded equally quietly.

"How do you know that?"

"Ike told me."

"How did you find Ike?" I asked confused. I hadn't heard Kyle's adopted brother's name in a long time.

"Myspace, so you promise?"

"I thought part of hearing these promises was agreeing blindly to them?"

"Yeah, but it'd be nice to have like a double promise with this one."

That night my mind had whirled with everything Kenny had showed me, told me and asked of me. The way it all insistently connected with Kenny's final death made me expect that call from his mom 9 days later telling me he had died and hadn't returned. But it hadn't made it easier to accept, because now I had to find an old friend.

"Promise me Stan," Kenny pressed when I hadn't answered him right away.

"If you're talking to Ike, why don't you just ask him?"

"Because I'm asking you." He sat up completely as he said it and so did I. We sat with our legs spread out staring at each other.

He had never questioned why I was so hesitant to agree. It wasn't as if I had to find Kyle myself, I knew he was at Stanford, I had just been told that. All I'd have to do was look through the student directory and call him, but a large part of me didn't want to get back in contact with Kyle and I still don't know why.

"Okay, I promise."

He had smiled at me in the darkness and I recall giving him a faint one back. He had jumped up and out from the back of the truck and strolled around to the driver's side, acting as if everything we had just been talking about, his unavoidable death, hadn't happened.

"Want to get some food?" He had asked, opening the driver's door. I hopped from the back of the truck, opening the passenger's door.

"Sure," I had responded and we both climbed into the beat up old truck. We had left the football field and the stars and had talked of everything we could think of at the 24 hour diner we went to. When the receipt had come, Kenny asked me to spot him and I glared at him. He had laughed in response and took the bill.

"I'm just kidding Stan, lighten up," he had said with a smirk.

When he stopped the car in front of my apartment, I hadn't moved at first and stayed planted in my seat.

"I'm not giving you the awkward goodbye kiss," he said after a moment with a smile.

Normally I would have punched him on his shoulder, snarled at him, at the very least call him a name, but I didn't, because a question was lingering in my head. When I didn't respond, his smile faltered. "What is it?" He asked.

"Kenny…how do you want to die?"

I had been able to tell that he hadn't expected me to ask that, I hadn't either. What I had really wanted to ask was why I felt like he knew he was going to die soon, but that other question came out instead.

He looked thoughtful and even glanced away before looking back at me. His expression was light, he was serious, but he was slightly amused too, "I want to die doing something exciting."

When I heard he had died in an illegal street car race up near the mountain peaks it should have seemed like some sort of suicide. If anyone knew how precious his life was, it was Kenny. He had to have known racing that car, on those windy narrow icy streets would kill him. But it wasn't really a suicide, it wasn't that he wanted to die; it's that he knew he was going to, and like he had said, he wanted to die doing something exciting. So instead of letting something like a tree fall on him, he chose his own way out.

That hadn't been the last time I talked to him. We hung out the next few days for a few hours a piece before I got called away to help Bebe with the wedding plans and before he got called away to work. But it had been the last conversation we had.

And now, as I remember that last conversation we shared I think back to the promises he made me give. I wasn't able to fulfill either.

I was crying, and Kyle didn't come.

**-FG**


	3. Kyle II

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

I can't believe it. Who _does_ that, who stands outside of a church, already late to a funeral and then misses the entire thing? People are still talking and walking around me, as I stare ahead in disbelief. They don't seem to notice me, or at least they don't acknowledge me. I probably would have stood there forever if someone hadn't called out my name.

"Kyle?"

I turned my head slowly to look at the person calling my name. Long jet black hair, pretty brown eyes, an uncertainty in her lower mature voice as she questions who I am.

"Wendy?"

Her face broke into a smile and she weaved her way toward me through the hoard of people still streaming from the front doors of the South Park Community Church.

"Oh wow it really is you," she said as she leaned in, hugging me tightly before pulling away. "I saw you when I walked out, but I wasn't sure if it was you, you look completely different, amazing, but different."

"So do you, nature's been good to you," I tell her honestly with a smile and watch as she blushes slightly.

Nature _has_ been good to Wendy, she had a radiant glow about her, and it took a lot of willpower to not reach out and touch her shiny hair. She had an hour glass figure, most girls in California kill themselves to get. Her black dress hugged her in all the right places and she looked comfortable and confident wearing it.

"I heard you moved?" I asked as we started walking toward the parking lot together.

She nodded, "yeah, New York, I go to NYU. Are you still in California?"

"Yeah, Stanford."

We smiled at each other and I wondered if the same competitive glint that was in her eyes were in mine. Wendy had been my only rival when we were young. At the time I didn't see it as that, but it went unspoken from grades to Stan. She had given up the latter to date Token, but till the day I left we had battled for the former.

"So how'd you hear about Kenny?" I asked, changing the subject .

I watched her small lips drop to a frown, "Bebe called me."

"You two are still really good friends then?"

She sighed as she wrapped her long hair into a high pony tail to get it out of her face as a breeze went by. "It's a little strained since her engagement with Stan. Did you ever hear about that?" She asked, cocking her head to the side looking at me as I nodded. "Stan and I had dated a little more in middle school, and the only reason we broke up then was because I had moved to New York. She had never expressed in any interest in Stan before… she had always liked you," she paused to smile here remembering. "But then later on I found out they had gotten together. It's okay I guess, I've moved on, it was only middle school, and I don't own Stan…but I always thought there was that silent rule between friends about not dating ex's." She shrugged, "anyway we'd better get to the cemetery. I wonder if Stan will show up on time..."

This gained more of my attention, "what do you mean? He didn't go to the sermon either?"

"Of course he went!" Wendy seemed slightly dismayed that I would think otherwise. "Those two," I watched as her face softened and as her eyes glazed over as if remembering. "Those two became really close, especially when we hit middle school… attached at the hip. A lot of kids said it was because they were each holding onto the last link they had with you Kyle."

"Me?"

She nodded, "and maybe it was at first, but not after awhile. They were the sort of close friends people dream about having. But what do you mean he didn't go to the sermon either, are you saying _you_ missed it?"

I nod miserably and explain to Wendy what happened, "ah." She responded to me. "Well at least you still have the burial to attend. Which, by all means we're going to miss if we don't get going. Which car is yours?" She asked looking around and I pointed out the white hybrid. "You still know how to get there right?" I nod. "Then I'll see you there, hopefully Stan will be there," she mutters slightly as she begins to walk away.

"Wait, what do you mean by that, you never explained?" I ask suddenly.

She turns slightly and shakes her head before answering, "When he was supposed to give his personal statement about Kenny he instead accused the entire crowd of not caring about Kenny at all, which was mostly true. It was pretty heart wrenching to watch, after that he took off. I don't know if anyone knows where to. I just hope he shows up to the burial; he'd hate himself forever if he missed it."

Oh. I nod again, and Wendy and I head into our separate cars, making our way to the cemetery. When we arrive we park near each other and see that the group of people that had been at the memorial service is now talking quietly standing around Kenny's grave site. I can see his casket looming over a six foot hole, being restrained by various pulleys, but no one is standing around it. Wendy seems to notice this too when she steps next to me.

"Oh there you are! Wendy!" Someone calls toward us, and we both turn to see Mrs. Marsh hurriedly walking toward us. She glances at me, doing a double take. "Kyle?"

"Nice to see you again Mrs. Marsh," I say politely.

"Y-yes, how have you been- oh never mind, this isn't the time. Have either of you seen Stan anywhere? We can't find him and no one wants to dare burying Kenny without him here."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Marsh I haven't seen him, Kyle and I only just arrived."

"Oh, have you?" I watched as she bit her lip, her eyes scanning the restless crowd.

"Maybe a few of us could go look for him?" I question slowly. Its not that I remember South Park's layout thatwell, but probably enough not to get lost in the small town.

"Hmm, I suppose we're going to have to if we don't want to just go ahead with the burial," Mrs. Marsh contemplates out loud. "Okay, I'll round up a few more people, I'm sure no one will mind much. Wendy do you mind taking the area near east of town and Kyle can you take the west?"

We both nod together, "good, I'll have Bebe go back to their apartment, maybe he went there," she mutters walking off.

Wendy and I exchange small smiles as we walk back to our cars, as I open my door I suddenly remember something and call out to her, "Wendy?"

"Yeah?" She turns to look at me.

"What," I pause, and give her a wavering smile. "What does Stan look like now?"

She gives me a warm smile, "pretty much the same really, just older. He hasn't changed."

I nod to her my thanks and step into my car, closing the door and releasing a sigh after putting my sunglasses back on. My hands are on the wheel and I stare ahead for awhile before turning the ignition and driving off toward the west area of town. As I drive down the semi familiar local streets it's hard not to wonder what I'll say to Stan if I find him.

Will it be awkward? Probably, he seemed so angry at me on the phone when we last spoke, and he's probably realized that I didn't attend the funeral. That probably makes me look like a complete asshole, agreeing to go and then not showing up.

I drive aimlessly down west South Park, looking for a head of black, but there aren't really that many people with jet black hair out in general. I pull a few U-turns to stay in my area and drive around more before deciding Stan might be inside one of the shops in the street. I park my car on the side of the road and walk up and down the street, and in the stores. After a good hour of searching I conclude to myself that Stan is most definitely not in west South Park. I head back to my car.

As I turn into the cemetery it occurs to me that perhaps Wendy and I should have exchanged cell phone numbers, that way if anyone did find Stan we could have called each other and I wouldn't have had to drive all over town aimlessly looking, when he could have already been found.

Something lurches in my stomach when I pull into the same parking lot I pulled into earlier. There's a huge difference between then and now. Now there are some three cars in the lot, when before it was packed.

No…no…NO!

I jump out of my car, not caring if I locked it or not and sprint to where I had seen the crowd earlier. I halt when I see Kenny's grave. No one from the ceremony is around, the only people present are the ones lowering his casket into the ground and shoveling dirt on top of it.

My body starts to tremble as I watch them as they complete their job, walking off talking to each other idly. I stop a guy with one of my arms but don't look at him. "Where is everyone?" I ask in a whisper.

"What you mean from this guy's funeral?"

I nod numbly, already knowing the answer.

"Long gone kid, it's been over for almost an hour. I suppose they're all at the reception or somethin'."

I let him go and approach the site. For a McKormick, Kenny received a nice grave. It's still a small headstone, but it looks like he got a good spot, right next to a large tree so he'll mostly be in the shade. I wonder if he'd like it.

I looked at Kenny's gravestone before kicking the tree that is beside it with angry shaking force.

"Fuck!" I scream out continuing my assault on the tree. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I missed everything! I am so sorry Kenny…I'm sorry."

Damn it. Why did this happen, how could this have happened? Didn't Wendy notice I wasn't there? But I guess even if she had, there was nothing she could do about it. People wouldn't want to delay Kenny's burial just because the old estranged friend from 4th grade wasn't around.

But still, it really isn't fair. I rest my head exhaustedly against the tree trunk, ignoring the buzzing of insects around my head. I didn't get to say goodbye at the funeral and I didn't get to say goodbye at the burial service and now he's really gone. I didn't get to see if his hair was light or dark blonde, or if he had blue or green eyes. Well, I guess I wouldn't have seen his eyes period, but maybe after just seeing his face I'd remember on my own what color they were.

I wasted my time coming back here to South Park. I push myself off the tree, flipping out my sunglasses and placing them back over my eyes, brushing away the tears I hadn't noticed. I've decided I'm leaving. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back to this pit hole town, I'm taking my name out of the student directory, and I'm going to make sure no one from here can ever find me again.

"What are you doing?" A voice asks me. I'm still facing the tree, but I recognize that voice. It called me to invite me here in the first place. I turn around slowly placing my glasses on my head as I do so.

He tenses slightly and I watch as his eyes narrow and as his lips thin, "Kyle?" He questions, but I can tell he knows it's me. He says my name with such contempt that I almost wince, but I hold my ground against my former best friend.

"Stan," I say with a nod; casting Kenny's grave one last look, one last final internal goodbye. I tell him silently that I'll give him a proper goodbye another time before focusing my attention on Stan.

Wendy was right, he looks just the same. Angrier, but just the same.

-**FG

* * *

AN: **I realize the cruelty of having Kyle miss the funeral _and_ the burial, but he'll be okay. Now unfortunately the next chapter is not of Stan and Kyle being reunited. But instead it's a POV chapter from Kenny! So maybe it's not so unfortunate? I guess you can judge that later! (:


	4. Kenny

**AN: **Since Kenny has died in this story, any chapters in his POV are merely flashbacks, hence the italics. The story is going to be jumping all over the place in terms of when things are taking place so…umm… get used to it? (:

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kenny**

"_I've never seen you clean with such energy." One of the guys I works with tells me as he cleans his own glass with a rag._

"_I'm meeting Stan for lunch," I respond, placing the glass I was wiping carefully on the shelf with a bunch of others before grabbing another wet one._

"_Ah, how is your boyfriend?" _

_I laugh, "You know it's not like that."_

"_Best friend, boyfriend, with the amount of time you two spend together who can tell what the difference is?"_

"_The difference is I'm not attracted to him and I don't see us fucking in the future."_

"_Hmm, is he being wasted on the female population?" My co-worker asks._

"_Hey, can I get a Heineken on tap?" A customer interrupts our conversation and Dale, the guy I'm working with and for, puts the glass he was cleaning away. _

"_Sure," he says and fills a mug with the booze. He slides it over to the already drunk slightly overweight man. "$6," he says, and the guy clumsily hands him a 20. Dale makes the change and the guy stuffs it in his pocket before staggering off to join the rest of his friends in a game of drunken darts._

_I pick up our conversation where it left off, "wasted on the female population? He just got engaged last night to his long term girlfriend. You know Bebe Stevens; her dad comes in here a lot."_

_Dale makes a disgusted face, "he's marrying that skank?"_

"_Bebe's nice," I say mechanically and Dale laughs. _

"_Nice, a skank, what's the difference? You agree with me."_

"_I like Bebe."_

"_Yeah, I can see that's ingrained in your head to say as well."_

_I don't say anything to or against that._

"_When's the wedding?" Dale asks me._

_I shrug, "If I know Stan he'll want it to be one of those long engagements, waiting until after college. I'm sure Bebe will want it to be next year."_

"_So it's going to be next year then?" Dale asks._

"_Probably," I nod with a grin. _

"_Yup I wouldn't be surprised, that's chicks for you. When it comes to their wedding, they mean it when they say it's _their_ wedding, isn't usually a fair amount of input allowed from the groom."_

"_Maybe not, and I don't think Stan will be that big of an exception. I bet Bebe, his mom and Mrs. Stevens will force him to be involved in the plans, and yet they probably won't give him a lot of say in the final decisions." I say, starting to wipe down the counter slightly. "Can I leave now, its 1:30?"_

_Dale glances at the clock under the counter, "yup, but I thought you were meeting Stan?"_

"_I am."_

"_Well, where is he?" He asks me looking around the bar._

"_He doesn't like coming inside here. It _is_ a rat hole," I grin and duck in the back before he can toss a dirty rag at me. "You're employing an 18 yr old!" I yell out laughing and I hear him curse._

"_Yeah which is practically 21. Later Kenny, give your boyfriend a kiss for me!"_

_I continue to laugh as I slip my jacket on, and clock out for the afternoon. Pushing a hand through my hair I see Stan waiting patiently inside his car with the windows down, when he sees me, grins, and reaches over to unlock my side of the car. I slip in and grin back at him._

"_Hanging around this part of town with the windows down, kinda brave of you don't you think?" I ask him smiling._

"_I was hot, thought I'd risk it for once. Where do you want to go to lunch?" He asks me._

"_You didn't make anything?" I ask a little put off. _

_He shakes his head, "I didn't have time."_

_Sighing I think a moment before I shrug, "whatever's cheapest then."_

"_We don't always have to go to the cheapest place Kenny; I don't mind paying for something more than a burger."_

"_Yeah, but I like burgers."_

"_Burgers it is then," he says and pulls out onto the road. "How's work?" He asks distractedly as he glances at his mirrors to view traffic behind us._

"_Usual," I shrug, intent on letting it go._

"_Right, so a couple of drunks beating each other up and you calling the cops then?"_

"_It's not so bad; Dale's the one that gets in the middle of those fights anyway not me, and there hasn't been a single fight today."_

_Stan shakes his head annoyed. He's never liked the fact that I work there. The bar is a dump and in pretty dangerous territory, definitely not the place you have your back to, but the pay, fuck the pay makes up for it all._

"_Yeah, Dale. That shitty manager of yours, he should be arrested for employing someone underage."_

"_Dale's a good guy Stan," I say warningly and slightly irritated. Stan's only met Dale a few times and he's always told me he didn't like him from day one. "Stop acting so jealous, honestly there's nothing between us." I tease him and laugh as he scowls. "He even told me to give you a kiss for him."_

"_Don't you fucking dare Kenny, I'll kick your ass out of the car and you can starve for all I care."_

"_I'm not gonna kiss you, you homophobe."_

_I see as he grips the wheel tighter to glance at me before facing the front again, "I'm not."_

"_I know you're not," I tell him simply. I look at him when I see him look at me again._

"_What's that?" He asks._

"_What's what?" I question confused, and yet knowing exactly what he's talking about._

"_That fucking twinkle in your eye."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

_Stan snorts and mutters, "the hell you don't. You're up to something…"_

_Saying nothing, I smile and enjoy the easy ride to the burger place we frequent, Juicy Patties. We pull in; grab our favorite table and order. The food arrives fast, a reason we like the place so much, and I gorge in. I haven't eaten since breakfast and that was at 7 in the morning. As I'm stuffing my face, I catch on that I'm being stared at. Swallowing a large painful gulp of burger I look at my best friend._

"_What?"_

"_You haven't congratulated me."_

"_What?"_

_Stan frowned, "you haven't congratulated me… for my engagement with Bebe."_

"_Oh… haven't I?" I ask, thinking over it. He only just got engaged to her last night._

"_No, you haven't."_

"_Sorry about that dude," I take this moment to take a large bite of my triple deluxe burger with extra mayo and everything on it. I chew happily, and even think to take a sip of my pop before I realize Stan is still staring at me, a little pissed too. "What!" I ask again, aggravated, I hate when people stare at me while I'm eating._

"_Kenny," he says quietly and I sigh, placing my burger back on the red plastic tray._

"_Congratulations, happy?" I ask._

"_No."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because you don't mean it."_

"_Fine, you're right, I don't mean it."_

_He folds his arms and stares at me dejectedly, waiting for me to explain myself._

"_You're young," I state._

"_I'm almost 19."_

"_Yeah, that's young… Stan why the hell didn't you tell me you were going to ask Bebe to marry you? Why was I just as surprised as everyone else last night when you popped the question?"_

"_You didn't look surprised."_

"_I was fucking faking it! We tell each other everything, but you failed to mention proposing to your girlfriend!"_

"_We tell each other everything huh?" He counters back at me sneering. "Then what's been with you the past few weeks? Why're you acting like… like, I don't even know how to describe it. Why are you so insistent on dragging me to places we haven't been to in fucking years? You're daydreaming all of a sudden, breaking off our plans abruptly to go God knows where, and when I ask you about it, you say it's nothing! I thought we told each other everything?" He imitated back to me._

"_We're not talking about me," I tell him quietly._

"_Yeah, we never talk about you anymore," he says dryly, looking away from me. We don't say anything to each other for awhile, and I decide I'm not all that hungry anymore as I stare at the half eaten burger. "I'm sorry," I suddenly hear and watch as he turns back to face me. "For not telling you in advance, I just… it was a last minute decision on my part and I knew you'd try to talk me out of it."_

"_What makes you think I'd try and do that?" After giving me a hard look I shrug, "okay. So I would have tried. If you knew I wouldn't approve why'd you go ahead with it anyway, why are you marrying her Stan?"_

"_I thought you liked Bebe?"_

_I cringed inwardly, I hate lying to him and through clenched teeth I do it anyway. "I do like her. I just don't understand why you see the need to marry right now, what's the point?"_

_He sighs and picks at the bun on his burger. "Well why not? She loves me and… I love her; it seems like the next logical step. She's been with me through some tough times, remember when we weren't talking?"_

_I nod remembering, it had been over something stupid I don't even remember. We hadn't talked for 3 months and 14 days; it had been hell on both of us._

"_She was there for me dude, she's around when I'm sick, when my parents almost got divorced, when Ned died and Uncle Jimbo was a mess, never once has she high tailed it and left."_

_I frown. "I was there for you through all that except our fight, why aren't you marrying me?"_

"_If you had a long time girlfriend Kenny, you'd understand."_

_I don't think I would, but I nodded anyway. I'd never be against him marrying Bebe if I felt he was really into it, if he was really into her, but he's not. On both counts. I glanced at my cheap watch and stood suddenly._

"_I gotta go."_

_He frowned at me, "alright, I'll grab the check, but I thought you got a two hour lunch break?"_

"_I do, I've just…" I look at him and he nods and stands._

"_Right, can I drop you off somewhere?"_

"_The bus stations fine."_

"_You sure?"_

"_Yeah, thanks Stan."_

_He grunts a response, because he knows I'm going to ditch him to go 'God knows where' and he knows I'm not telling, at least not yet. Once paying we head back into the car and drive in silence._

_Stan and I really don't keep much from each other, I'm probably keeping twice from him as he is from me. And even thinking that, I bet there isn't anything he hasn't told me. I realize I've been acting out of sorts lately, but I'm not ready to tell him yet. He'll freak on me, and before he does I want everything prepared and done so he knows I'm serious._

_I've always wondered if anyone else ever gets the feeling that they're going to die, and soon. But that's not the type of question you go around asking people, especially if you're me. Because no one would take me seriously and I can't explain that I feel, that I know that this time around its going to be different. That this time around I'm not coming back._

_It hadn't been a sudden feeling, it was gradual coming. I felt death approaching, but it took awhile for me to realize it was different from my other feelings of death. This one felt more solid, more definite, and then I just knew. I knew for sure only yesterday, the same day Stan proposed to Bebe. It's sorta when I decided I wouldn't let things end like that, I wasn't going to leave my best friend to deal with my death with Bebe. I haven't really got anything against her, she's just not what Stan needs. I figure there's even someone out there better for her._

_And when I drove home last night, I was surprised of the images that started to implode my mind. They were all of Stan, me and Kyle…Kyle, who I haven't seen in years. That little red headed Jewish kid Stan was attached at the hip to when we were little. _

_I hadn't ever had those images surround me before and with them came a shit load of questions. Where was he now, does he miss me and Stan, why didn't he try harder to stay in touch with us, why did he let our friendship fade? I wasn't angry, I'm still not. There's nothing to be angry about, but I realized that night that besides Stan I haven't ever trusted another soul as much as I did 8 yr old Kyle Broflovski. How is it, that in 11 years I haven't gained that sort of trust in anyone else?_

_In my book, that's a sign. Before yesterday I had had a will already written up, I was leaving everything to Stan. Last night I changed it, and added Kyle's name. It may be a little unconventional, probably fucking stupid in its own right leaving stuff to someone I haven't seen or even remembered from 11 years in the past, but for Kyle to enter my brain suddenly as I know I'm dying soon? Like I said, that's a sign and I'm one for listening to them._

_Stan pulls up to the bus station and I hop out before closing the door and leaning over the open window, "thanks for the ride dude."_

_He nods silently._

"_I'm gonna tell you what's up Stan, just not now okay?"_

_He eyes me carefully, I guess to see if I'm lying. "Promise?"_

"_Yeah dude, I totally promise."_

_He nods and gives me a small smile, "all right then. Call me later Kenny."_

"_I will," I say and see as the bus I plan on taking approaches. I can see Stan is trying to see where the bus is headed. Something occurs to me and I lean back on the window, "don't follow me either asshole."_

"_I won't, just get on your damn bus!"_

_I grin, now things are back to normal between us. At least for now, giving him one last wave I walk off and climb on the bus that's headed for downtown South Park. Sitting down in a seat, nice and far from the weird looking freaks I glance out the window and watch as Stan backs off and drives back in the direction of the community college._

_As par usual I fall asleep and am jolted awake by the bus driver's voice, declaring that this is the last stop. My stop. Heading out, I pay the $1 it costs to ride this piece of shit and walk down the stairs, reaching in the bag I had brought with me to pull out a small piece of paper I had an address scribbled on. The secretary I talked to said it was an easy office to find if I got off the bus that led here. She said it'd be within seeing distance from the stop._

_Looking around I'm met with the same address that's on my scrap paper. The address is for the 'Law Offices of A. Zanadaci', just who I'm going to see. Stuffing the paper in my pocket, I cross the street and head toward the small, but still rather expensive looking one story building._

_I walk into the office and look around. The only person I see is the brunette secretary who's typing away on a computer. The bell on the door alerts her of my arrival and she stops typing to look up at me._

"_Are you Kenny McKormick?" She asks me._

"_Yeah," I say and walk further into the room, eyeing the fake plants and framed black and white photographs that are gracing the walls._

"_Mr. Zanadaci said to just head on in when you arrive."_

_I nod, and head toward the only door on the left that's closed. I knock regardless that she had just told me I could walk right in and I hear a cheery, "come on in Kenneth!" _

_I frown. This is the 13th lawyer I'm going to meet to assess, and already I don't like him. No one, not a single soul calls me by my full name. Opening the door I see a plump, balding white man in a white suit with black rimmed glasses. He kinda resembles Colonel Sanders. Except he has less hair, and it's a dark gray instead of a white. He's smiling and gesturing to the seat across from him. I take it after giving him a firm hand shake._

"_It's Kenny, by the way," I say as I sit. Though I don't know why I'm bothering since it looks like I'll be leaving soon. Too bad though, he looks like a nice guy, and a smart one as I eye all the certificates hanging proudly on his walls._

"_All right then, Kenny, what is it that I can do for you?"_

_I lean back in my chair to look him up and down. He raises an eyebrow at me as I do so, he probably isn't used to being looked at like this by someone who's probably 3 decades his junior. But I'm tired of old demon lawyers trying to manipulate me, I'm not stupid._

"_I need to make a will, and I need it officially filed as soon as possible." I say simply._

"_Okay… are you joining the armed forces?" He asks curiously._

"_No, why would that matter?"_

"_The government prefers it if its soldiers, when going into war, make a will before they leave the country."_

_I raise a brow. "Okay, well I'm not going into the military."_

"_You… have an illness perhaps?"_

"_No."_

"_Why exactly does a seemingly fit young man need to file a will then?"_

_This was always the hardest thing to explain. I can't very well tell them I have this feeling I'm going to die soon. Can't explain that even though I've died more times than nature should allow that this time around I don't feel I'll be coming back to the land of the living. Yeah, this part is a bit difficult, so I've gotten used to just saying nothing. When I've stared at him for a long time, watching as he stares back at me, I stand. Oh well, on to Satan's personal servant #14. I knew the number 13 would be no good._

"_Mr. McKormick," he interrupts me before I leave his office._

"_Kenny," I say flatly. _

"_Kenny, where are you going?"_

"_Look," I say folding my arms. "I can't… tell you why I want to make a will, I just do all right? And I know that doesn't float the boat well with you legal men, a 19 yr old making a will, but I need a lawyer."_

"…_you can make an informal will you know, a more basic one; if that is something you think you'd be interested in."_

"_I know that, and I'm not," I say frustrated. "I need to make sure certain things are carried out in it, I need to make sure that certain people can't get anything from it. I need the law behind my will."_

_I watch him think a moment, "getting a lawyer is rather expensive Kenny."_

"_I can take care of it," I say stubbornly._

"_Mm-hm, please take a seat," he says finally. _

_I slowly do so and watch as he cleans his glasses with a cloth he's pulled from his coat pocket. He puts them back on squinting slightly before opening his desk and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen._

"_Shall we start now then?"_

_I smile, and decide he'll do. "Actually I already have a rough draft started," I say to him and pull out the paper I had typed up a few days ago. I slide it over to him. He gives me a glance of surprise before reading over what I've written down._

"_Not bad," he says quietly to himself. "Mind if I write on it?" He asks already doing so before I tell him he can._

"_Go ahead," I say beaming. "I also wanted to make one of those video wills, as back up." I add as an after thought and he nods distractedly. _

_After awhile he finishes, it isn't that long really, and stands, walking over to the second chair he has across from his desk beside me. _

"_It really is a well written testament; I only want to make a few suggestions."_

"_Suggest away," I smirk looking down at the paper with his scribbles. _

_He nods, looking at me. "First off, are you aware that you're leaving all this, and it is… quite a hefty amount of money - I see why you don't think I'll be expensive – to only two people? Neither as it would seem have any relation to you?"_

_I nod, "yeah I know, but they're friends… well actually I haven't seen him," I point to Kyle's name. "In ten years, but he was a really good friend of mine when I was eight. Real good guy, Kyle was, but the other one, Stan? We've been best friends for ages."_

_Mr. Zanadaci looks at me like I've lost a few marbles, "not to be blunt, but are you mad?" He asks._

"_Um…" I glance around before looking back at him. "I don't think so, why?"_

"_You're going to leave half of everything in your name, which again is quite a lot, to a guy you haven't seen since you were in elementary school?"_

"_Yes, I told you, Kyle's a good guy."_

"_Kenny," he says scolding, sounding very much like a parent. "Do you understand how ridiculous that is? He could be a completely different person, a drug dealer, gang leader for all you know."_

_I laugh, "drugs, a gang? Trust me Mr. Z, can I call you Mr. Z? Kyle isn't any of those things."_

"_Mr. Z is fine if you find it more suitable, and how would you know? I thought you said you haven't seen him since you were eight years of age?"_

"_I haven't, but you've got to trust me on this one."_

"_I can see this is going to be a relationship all based trust isn't it Kenny?" He asks raising an eyebrow._

_I can't help to grin at my new lawyer. "I'm glad you're catching on Mr. Z, this will most definitely be a relationship about trust. You think you're taking a leap trusting me, think of my situation, I'm trusting a fucking lawyer to handle my life savings."_

_He frowns, "language in my office Kenny."_

"_Sorry, can we just get back to it; I have to get back to work in a bit."_

_He nods and begins to point out a few additional things he sees off about my will._

**-FG**


	5. Stan II

**AN: **I wasn't going to post this so early but…I got convinced. (:

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

Kyle looked different, really different. How could a single person change so much in only a decade? I hadn't recognized him at all. All I had seen was this random stranger kicking Kenny's tree, _Kenny's _tree and that I was going to fuck them up real good if they didn't stop. But then when I get closer I saw the red hair, not the same shade of red from 11 years ago, but no one else I knew had red hair. I had swallowed the lump in my throat before I spoke allowing the anger to rise, "what are you doing?"

I had to force myself to stay put as he turned toward me. His looks caught me off guard. The hair was different, the skin tone was different, and the clothes were different, it was still just a black suit but the gleam in the fabrics told me of its price tag; he had two cartilage piercings in the same ear. Only his eyes were the same. "Kyle?" I had questioned, but by the time I had done so I was sure of who I was standing in front of.

"Stan," he had responded.

I'm not surprised he recognized me right away. I haven't changed, I'm older, broader, my hair is maybe an inch longer than he remembers but other than that, I'm the same. "What are you doing?" I ask him again, he winces at my anger.

"I'm… I was apologizing to Kenny… for missing the funeral… and the burial service."

"On the phone I said the memorial started at 2."

"And I got into town at 1, I just… sorta…" He sighed and trailed off, looking away from me.

"I don't care why you're late." I tell him.

"Then why do you look pissed off?"

"Because it's your fault I didn't keep my promise to him." Kyle looked confused but I saw no reason to explain myself to him. I glanced down at my watch. Kenny's lawyer would be waiting for us. "You drive here?" I asked him and he nodded. "Which car is yours?" I asked folding my arms and looking at the near empty parking lot.

"The white one."

The white expensive one. I wasn't surprised, but I started heading toward it, hearing him follow behind me. Even though he was behind me I could feel him struggling with whether or not to talk to me and I didn't bother to help him out. As we neared his car he caught up with my side.

He sighed again, "it was… nice to see you again Stan," he finally managed to say and was about to step into his unlocked car when I beat him to it, and plopped myself down in the passengers seat. He stared at me confused as he sat down in the drivers seat with his door wide open.

"Where do you think you're going?" We both asked each other at the same time.

"I'm going home, back to California." Kyle said staring hard at me. I shook my head.

"No you're not. We're going to Kenny's lawyer's office, we need to sign some papers, and I need a lift there. My Uncle Jimbo gave me a ride here and he's already left."

"Why do I have to go?" Kyle questioned me.

"Because you're in Kenny's will."

I watched as Kyle turned his head to stare ahead through his front window. He didn't move for such a long time that I was about to poke him to be sure he was still alive in there when he suddenly lifted his legs into his car, closed the door and started the car. Before taking off he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, fitting them quickly over his eyes before squealing out of the lot.

"Where's the office?" He asked, driving onto the main road.

I told him quietly and watched him drive. "It isn't that bright out," I finally said in our silence. He glanced over at me through his light shades before turning back to the road.

"When you wear sunglasses all the time your eyes start to get sensitive to everyday light. I'm trying to wean myself off the glasses, but natural light still tends to hurt my eyes the most, especially with all this damn snow reflecting everything back."

I nod as if I understand, but I don't. I never wear sunglasses.

"So um," he starts. I guess he wants to try small talk. "How is your Uncle Jimbo? I actually still remember him and I thought I saw him come out of the church."

"He's okay, but he's different since Ned and all."

"Ned?" He glances over at me again, before focusing on the relatively empty street.

It's different talking to Kyle. I have to remember he doesn't know anything that's happened in the past years.

"Ned died awhile ago, lung cancer," I state simply.

Kyle hasn't looked back at me, but from just viewing his side profile I can tell he's confused and it occurs to me that he doesn't remember Ned.

"He was my uncle's best friend, he had a voice box?" Kyle isn't remembering still and I'm starting to get frustrated. "They had that stupid public access TV show together about some dumb frog?" Nothing. "They were in Vietnam together, helped us with a school project?" Kyle's starting to look equally frustrated but now I'm getting annoyed. It's only been 11 years not 11 hundred. "They got us fireworks for the 4th of July!"

That did it. I can see through his glasses as his eyes lit up. "The year with that stupid fucking ash snake that destroyed everything?" He asks and I nod and laugh slightly, relieved that he remembers something. Relieved that he didn't just scratch all our childhood memories away.

"Jesus Christ, Ned's gone?" Kyle says shaking his head. "I liked him."

"Yeah."

"How'd Jimbo take it?"

"Not very well, they were best friends after all; had been for over twenty-five years."

Kyle nods but he doesn't say anything, there isn't anything more he can say on the subject. He barely remembers Ned and I'm willing to bet his memories of my uncle aren't that heavy either. He probably wouldn't understand the differences in my now quiet uncle. My Uncle Jimbo had been the one to find me at the bridge when I had ran off after my outburst during Kenny's funeral.

I had still been a little upset, still breaking a promise to Kenny about crying. I had heard a truck go over the bridge but there was nothing new about that, or so I had thought. I hadn't heard the vehicle stop and I hadn't heard someone get out of it, and walk down to the bridge. I hadn't heard anything except my own noises until a sudden hand landed on my shoulder. I nearly jumped a mile in the air.

"Calm down Stanley, it's just me," he had said and I saw that it was my Uncle Jimbo. I breathed a sigh of relief and let my heart slow down.

"You scared the fuck out of me," I muttered, watching as he had sat down across from me. He looked around at the small creek that streamed and glanced at the old cans and bottles of beer; the old cigarette butts and the old worn porno magazines.

"Sorry about that kiddo, nice place you and Kenny had here."

"What makes you think it was our place?" I asked a little irked that he knew.

"Ned and I had a place like this up in the woods. I wonder if it's still there…" he murmured the last part to himself and I let my irritation fade at the sound of Ned's name.

"What are you doing here Uncle Jimbo?" I had asked exhausted as I let my head rest back on my crouched knees.

"Everyone's looking for you," he had said. "We're about to bury Kenny, and everyone thought you might want to be there for that, so we're putting it on hold till you're there."

I shook my head. "I can't be there Uncle Jimbo, not with those people…they don't give a crap about Kenny, none of them."

"That's a bit harsh Stan."

"What do you know! My best friends dead and I broke the only two promises he ever asked me to fulfill for him!"

My uncle gave me a look and I turned away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry Uncle Jimbo, of course you understand, I just… Kenny…" I stopped. I was on the verge of crying again and I didn't want to do so in front of him.

"What promises are you talking about?" He asked me gently.

"…Kenny asked me if on his funeral I wouldn't cry…and that if I would bring Kyle. I promised, promised him I'd do it. And look at me! Crying, when he said he hated it and Kyle didn't even bother to show up."

He sat there for awhile, contemplating this. Contemplating, that was something my old Uncle Jimbo wouldn't have done.

"Stan, Kenny was your best friend, so you promised him you wouldn't cry oh well, I think he'd understand. As for Kyle...do you mean that old little Jewish friend you had when you were a kid?"

I nodded glumly.

"You got a hold of him?"

"I just called him, yeah."

"Then it seems to me like you did all you could. Where is he?"

"In California still, he goes to Stanford."

He whistled, "he was always a smart one. In any case Stanley, you did what you could to get him here. You couldn't have dragged him to come. The fact that he hasn't shown up is all on him." He shook his head to himself, "there wasn't anything you could do about that. It's Kenny, he knew you'd do all you could."

"…maybe. But I promised Uncle Jimbo."

"And you did the best you could to uphold your end of the bargain. Now come on then," he stood. "What do you think Kenny would be more disappointed in about, that you cried at his funeral, that Kyle didn't show up or that _you _didn't even show up?"

I nodded silently and let him help me up. When we got to his truck, he handed me a couple of napkins that had the Harbucks logo on them. "You don't want everyone else to know you've been cryin' do you?"

"Thanks," I had said and took the napkins, wiping my eyes as we drove to the cemetery. When we got there, no one said anything to me and I didn't say anything to anyone except to let my parents and Bebe know that I was okay. I thought I had seen Wendy over the crowd, but the girl I thought was her was looking around worriedly over the crowd as if looking for someone. I personally gave the priest a nod, and he proceeded with the final messages of death to be bestowed upon to Kenny. I, along with a slew of others gave him our final goodbyes before the priest closed his bible and made a cross.

Bebe rubbed my arm slowly and looked up at me, "are you ready to go sweetie?"

I shook my head, "no. I'm going to stay here awhile longer," I glanced down at her worried face. I gave her a small kiss on the forehead. "I'm okay Bebe, really. I just want to stay a bit longer, I'll catch a cab home."

"You don't want to go to the reception?" She had asked and I shook my head. I had been in no mood to go back to the McKormick's house, eat crappy hors d'oeuvres, and talk pleasantly with people who had already forgotten why they were all gathered together in the first place.

"Well okay, then I guess I'll just see you at home later?" She had continued and I nodded. She gave me quick kiss before rubbing my back slightly and walking off with my parents. A lot of the guests, including the McKormick's gave me their condolences about Kenny. Which I found odd, but accepted anyway.

I had stood in front of his coffin long after everyone had left and looked at it, nodding my head in approval at the burial site I had chosen for him. It cost me more money than I'd be willing to admit to Bebe or anyone else, but he deserved it, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I almost missed the last part of the ceremony." I had said suddenly to no one, but Kenny. "What would you have thought of me? Luckily Jimbo found me and got me here before anything started without me…

…damn it Kenny I'm sorry." I had whispered to him. "I'm sorry I cried, I'm sorry I couldn't get Kyle to come here. Just don't be mad at me okay? I tried, I called him, talked to him and everything and he said he'd be here. I gave him the time and the place, he said he'd come and he… well you probably saw he didn't show up. I know you wanted him to, I don't know why, but I tried. I did… you know when I called he sounded so different on the phone. For some reason I sorta expected to hear the voice of a nine year old on the other line." I laughed softly, "stupid of me huh? And you know what; he didn't know who I was! I said it was Stan and that asshole actually asked 'Stan who?' How many other fucking Stan's do you think he knows!

We didn't talk much after that, I… didn't really let him. Kinda hung up the phone after he had confirmed he'd show up. And look now, he lied…" I paused. I hadn't wanted to think of that fact more than I needed too.

"Hey, do you remember that time when we joined that shitty Getting Gay With Kids choir group? And we all went to try and save the rainforest and you got that massive crush on that blonde that picked her nose all the time? What was her name…?" I stood and pondered for a moment. "Kelly! That was it. Remember how Kyle couldn't keep up with the dance to save his Jewish ass? Hmm, the rainforest… we never got to do wild shit like that after Kyle left did we? No more random crazy adventures that made me question if we were normal kids. Remember how when you got struck by lightening that weekend and Kelly had actually thought to resuscitate you? Sorry dude, I can't believe no one thought to ever do that before. But you know, you always came back anyway… are you sure you're not going to come back this time?" I had stopped talking to stare harder at the tombstone that displayed his name, birth and death date with a small message at the bottom. It had been as if I wanted the tombstone to talk back to me, this was South Park and I was at Kenny's grave. I half expected to hear his voice talk back to me through the weird networks the town had with supernatural happenings.

I hadn't heard anything. Kenny didn't talk back to me.

"I mean, I know your vitals are gone and I know most of your organs have been donated already but you always find a way to come back," I had started again hearing the desperation in my voice and pointedly ignored it. "That's what's so fucking mysterious about you, against all odds, against fucking _nature_ you come back. How could you not come back now, that doesn't make any sense…How could you just die this time, why would you do that stupid race, why couldn't you just be more careful in general? You could have lived longer, and you could have gone to my wedding! And, fuck Kenny…"

I had had to stop, I thought I was about to cry again, so I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself down.

"How about this…" I had started again. "I'll make a promise and you fulfill it…I- I promise I won't marry Bebe; I'll break up with her - never talk to her again even - if you just come back. Okay? I promise I'll do that, so would you please, please come back? Please defy every natural law in the universe and just don't die… not for real anyway. I'm not ready for you to go yet."

Fuck. I could feel the tears welling. "I have to go the bathroom," I told him quietly and left. The only bathroom around was the one at the office of the funeral home, and as I walked in I spotted the bathroom right away. Luckily for me it was the only one and I locked the door, resting my head against it once it was closed. I swallowed the lumps and fought the tears.

It had been a dumb request. Kenny couldn't have fulfilled that promise and I knew it because he was gone. He wasn't coming back and promising to dump Bebe wasn't going to get him back. But I had had to try, I had to. When I felt like I was under control I headed back out of the office and back toward Kenny's grave site. That was when I had seen Kyle for the first time in almost 11 years, assaulting Kenny's tree.

"Stan!"

I shake my head and look at Kyle who's staring at me a little concerned. His sunglasses are resting on his hair and his emerald eyes are studying me intently. I look away.

"What?" I ask him gruffly.

"This is the place isn't it? The lawyers?"

I look out my window. Oh, this is it. I nod and exit his car without saying anything. We walk through the small building, and I mention our appointment with Kenny's lawyer to the secretary who allows us to see him right away.

"Ah, Stan," says the middle aged balding man as Kyle and I enter his office. He looks at Kyle, "and you must be Kyle Broflovski?"

Kyle nods and glances around at the small office.

"I'm Mr. Zanadaci, Kenny's lawyer."

"Where is everyone else?" He asks.

"Everyone else?" The lawyer asks in confusion as he takes his seat behind his huge mahogany desk.

"For the reading of the will."

"You two are the only ones in the will," he says eyeing me. "Stan didn't tell you that? Kenny left everything to just the two of you."

I watch Kyle more or less collapse in surprise into a chair that's in front of the desk. I take the one beside him, and answer for him.

"No, I didn't tell him. I only just found him awhile ago," I say, keeping my eyes on the lawyer. I can feel Kyle staring at me, and I do everything in my power to stare just as hard at the man in front of us.

"Why didn't you tell me that on the phone?" He asks, still staring at me.

"I wanted to see if you'd come on your own free will, not because you wanted to collect some free shit."

"You think I'd do that?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything about you now do I?" I ask snapping, turning to glare at him. I'm surprised that he's glaring back at me.

The lawyer clears his throat and we both turn to look back at him. "Shall I get started on the reading?"

"Could you just summarize it, I have to be heading home. There's no reason for me to be here longer than is absolutely necessary." Kyle says in irritation and I frown, but say nothing to him.

"Sure thing Mr. Broflovski,-"

"Kyle," he interrupts and the lawyer nods.

"Right, Kyle. Stan here basically knows what Kenny left the both of you. But there was a bit of small print, Kenny added in at the last minute, the day before he died actually."

I sat forward, forgetting Kyle was beside me as I stare hard at the man. "Small print?"

"Yes," he smiled. "Kenny may never have stepped foot into a 13th year but he was a smart lad. Kyle, Kenny left behind this exact total in savings to be divided between yourself and Stan."

I watched as he slipped Kyle a small piece of paper. I can vaguely make out the sum of Kenny's savings along with a written description of what was to be done with it below it. Kyle froze as he read the amount and looked to me, then the lawyer.

"This is…a lot of money," he finally said once he came out of his stupor.

"It is," the lawyer said with a firm nod. "And that isn't even all of it."

This time I was surprised, "its not? But he said-"

"Mr. Marsh, Kenny told you the amount of money in his savings, he never mentioned his checking account or what was invested in stocks or bonds. There's quite a bit more. It won't make either of you millionaires but you could both most certainly live comfortably with it if you were careful, and of course everything is gathering a nice amount of interest as it continues to sit in the bank."

"So just how much is there?" I prodded the man and he shuffled through a folder, extracting a page, and placing it between Kyle and I. We both leaned over to glance at it, and I'm not sure what Kyle's reaction is but I'm pretty sure my heart stopped a few times.

"You have…got… to be kidding me," Kyle whispered.

"Not at all, like I said, Kenny was smart. Very smart, of course there is the small print."

"Which is?" I asked gaining my voice and my senses as I tried not to stare at all the numbers on the paper.

"Naturally all the money and accounts will be carefully divided in two, but in order to get any of the funds, or any of his personal belongings you both have to sign a contract."

"What sort of contract?" We both asked.

"Let me see," we waited in impatience for him to look through his folder. He took out two pieces of paper looking over it hesitantly before placing one sheet in front of either of us. I glanced at Kyle's and he glanced at mine. The papers were identical and I began to read.

"That son of a bitch," I muttered as I read. When I had finished reading I saw that Kyle had finished before me and was looking rather grim.

"Yes, that was something to what I had thought," the man said, shifting in his chair as he looked back and forth between me and Kyle. "As you can imagine Stan, he was laughing a good portion of the time."

I nodded bitterly, "yeah I can see him chucking it up."

The lawyer set his arms on the table, his hands interlaced as he shifted his eyes from me to Kyle; constantly back and forth again. "He wanted to be absolutely sure that you two wouldn't simply sign the papers, take off and never see each other again. He was quite firm and very serious when he told me of this little contract."

"Is this even legal?" Kyle asked quietly.

"Of course not," the man said leaning back into his chair, swiveling slightly. "It isn't legal until you both sign it, you can't be forced to do this. But if you do agree and then don't follow through you get nothing."

"And what makes you think I'll do this at all? I have a life back in California, school, my friends, my family. You think I'm just going to drop out of Stanford U and come back to this, this…" Kyle was getting red in the face as anger finally began to overwhelm him. "This redneck town!" He finished.

I frowned at him.

"Nothing makes me think you'll do this Kyle. I told Kenny I didn't see it working at all. I sure wouldn't do it, but then he gave me two sealed envelope's. One for you and one for Stan. He said that would be more than enough to convince the both of you." He handed Kyle a sealed letter and me another. I sighed, wondering what more Kenny had up his sleeve. He was always planning something when he was alive, but I didn't think his plans would exceed after his death.

**-FG

* * *

AN: **Next chapter… I want to **marry** that chapter. A bit anticlimactic in the beginning wasn't it? You'll realize why. :waves to the readers: Please read and review!


	6. Kenny, Kyle, and Stan

**AN: **I'm glad everyone liked chapter 5 so much! As titled you can guess that this chapter has the POV of all three boys in it! It's worth noting that I have little idea on how the stock market works. And I think I will post chapters faster since the story is going to be _much _longer than I had originally thought/planned it would be, and I'll be starting classes and work again soon. (:

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kenny, Kyle, and Stan**

**Kenny**

"_Afternoon Mr. Zanadaci!" I say as I enter his office, sitting myself comfortably on one of his chairs._

"_Good day Kenny, bring me something else to put away?"_

"_Sort of, I wanted your opinion and I wanted to give you some direct directions I had. Is that okay?"_

"_I am your lawyer," he leaned forward with a smile. "So what can I do for you?"_

_I pulled out a notebook from the messenger bag that was strapped over my shoulder. "I hadn't told you before and technically I'm not even sure if it's entirely legal but I've been playing the stock market."_

"_Perfectly legal," he said with a smile. "Any good investments?"_

"_A few I think," I told him and handed him the statement I got monthly from the NASDAQ. I laughed when his eyes bugged out slightly. "Not bad eh?"_

"_Kenny..." he shook his head. "You amaze me sometimes, these are good, very good numbers."_

"_Yeah, it's nice to know I've been having some good luck the past few years" I said fondly. "Anyway, I want to leave anything I get in the market to Stan and Kyle too."_

_He frowned, as I knew he would. "Kenny, I realize it's all your property, but once again I advise you to leave something to your family, and not to simply two people, especially the one you haven't seen in years."_

"_Thanks for the advice but I'm going to disregard it. This is what I want to do, add that in the will okay?"_

_He nodded, and placed the statements in a folder that he pulled out that had my name on the tab._

"_Was there anything more?"_

"_Yeah. You know of course how Stan and I haven't seen Kyle in year's right?" He nodded. "Well the thing is we all used to be best friends when we were little, as close as kids can be I think. And I remember Stan was pretty damn torn up about it when they parted and he couldn't get a hold of him. In any case I found Kyle."_

"_Really? That's great news Kenny!"_

"_Yeah…I went to see him too."_

"_W-what, you did? What did he say when he saw you?"_

"_He didn't recognize me," I laughed. "I purposely bumped right into him, knocking all his school books out of his hand, even helped offer to pick them up for him and I did. He was nice about it and I waited, waited for him to question me, and the bastard never did."_

"_Oh I see, so you want to take him out of the will?"_

"_Of course not, I just find the whole thing funny as fuck."_

"_Language in my office, Kenny."_

"_Right, right sorry. Anyway, he was still him. Older yeah, but still the same kid from when we were nine."_

"_Uh… huh…"_

"_The point is," I pressed with a smile and Mr. Z nodded. "I kinda know him and Stan, and I know no two people belong together more than they do. I mean yeah Stan and I got really close after he left, became damn close friends, but there was always something weird about the whole thing, and that was Kyle not being there. Those two are meant to be together."_

"_Be… together?"_

_I grinned at the innuendo I left him hanging with, and nodded. "Right, Stan deserves more than the blonde chick he's marrying and once I leave I don't want him to fall into some pit of depression. Kyle would be more than efficient at making sure he was taken care of. I trust him with that job."_

"_All right, but I'm not sure at what it is that I can help with."_

"_Everything in my will I left to them, but I don't want them to just take the money and never see each other again, that would accomplish nothing. So," I pulled out a few pieces of paper and handed them to my lawyer. He scanned it carefully before looking at me._

"_Don't you think this is a bit much? They're total strangers to each other. They'd never agree to such terms."_

_I laughed thinking of the agreement I had thought of, "you're probably right, they wouldn't…at first. They'd both probably rather the feds or some charities take everything I left them than sign this, which I'm aware of would take to make it legal. But I _want_ them to take it all, they're my friends and that money should go to them. I know it's just money but I know they both need it. So as much as they won't want to take it, they'll still need too. They're both swimming in college debt already, especially Kyle."_

"_I'm going to pretend that you don't know how they're both in need of financial assistance as I'm sure you did nothing legal to obtain such documents." _

_I chuckled lightly as he continued; "now how do you plan to get them to sign this agreement?"_

_I smirked as I began shuffling through my bag, looking for the letters. I handed them over to Mr. Z who eyed them curiously. "I explain some things to them in those letters, just hand them over to them. They'll sign after that, they can't have anything I've left them until they do."_

"_Let's suppose they still don't sign the agreement?"_

"_They will Mr. Zanadaci." I told him seriously._

"_Humor me Kenny, suppose they don't?"_

"_Then they get nothing and the money goes wherever, but they will." I smiled softly, "don't under estimate my friends, they're good guys and this is my last dying wish, I doubt they wont grant it for me. Anyway," I stood. "I have to get to work. I probably don't have to tell you, but you don't have the right to read those letters."_

_Mr. Zanadaci nodded in exasperation._

_I grinned, "hey just checking. Later Mr. Z, and remember they both get equal shares of everything, but only if they sign those papers."_

"_Right, Kenny?" He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office, I turned to face him curiously. He looked a little concerned. "You know I don't like the way you talk about death, like you expect to die any day now… if, if you're contemplating killi-"_

"_I'm not going to commit suicide Mr. Zanadaci, do I look suicidal to you?"_

"_Well no, but-"_

"_I thought we agreed that this was going to be a relationship of trust? I know my life pretty well and I know it's coming to a close. You just make sure all the paperwork gets taken care of okay? I'm counting on you with all this! Oh wait…" I pause at the door and Zanadaci looks at me expectantly, "is there any way you could like… check up on them every so often? To be sure that they're really following through with everything?"_

"_I could have someone do so, yes."_

_I shook my head, "not someone Mr. Z, can you?"_

"_Kenny I think that's a bit much on my part."_

"_I can pay you extra," I added immediately and the older man sighed. "No need, how is once every two weeks?"_

_I beamed at him; he was most definitely the best choice in a lawyer. I decide looking at him that I'm going to miss him. It would have been nice getting to know him outside of all this, "perfect, thanks! I'll see you later on tonight when I get off work right to finalize everything?"_

_He nodded and I grinned, laughing about the agreement as I left his office._

**Kyle**

I stared at the numbers, the wording. Kenny, Kenny left all this… to me? We haven't talked, seen each other in years and yet…

Fucking Christ I don't even know what he looks like.

I forced myself to snap back to the present as the lawyer, a Mr. Zanadaci, talked about some small print Kenny added to his will. When I read it I could feel the color leaving my face. I didn't remember Kenny being this… Machiavellian.

After I question Kenny's lawyer on the legality of this scheme I blow up slightly. "And what makes you think I'll do this? I have a life back in California, school, my friends, my family. You think I'm just going to drop out of Stanford U and come back to this, this…redneck town!"

"Nothing makes me think you'll do this Kyle. I told Kenny I didn't see it working at all. I sure wouldn't do it, but then he gave me two sealed envelope's. One for you and one for Stan here and he said that would be more than enough to convince the both of you," he tells me as he hands both Stan and I one.

Even with the letters I can't imagine being convinced to do this, there are so many things wrong with it. The biggest obstacle being the guy sitting next to me, I don't see him agreeing to this either. It'd be weird and uncomfortable for the both of us, not to mention that I don't see the point.

Nevertheless I take the letter calmly from the man and eye it. So this is what Kenny's older handwriting looked like. I looked at the chicken scratch that spelled out my name on the front of the envelope. I didn't see, but I could hear Stan tearing into his letter as he began reading furiously. I was a little mad at Kenny, but Stan was probably furious, he knew him better than me and while I was mad and confused he was probably all that and frustrated. I turn my attention back to the letter and began opening it slowly, only vaguely aware that the lawyer was watching me carefully and awfully curiously. I'm thinking Kenny never told him what was in these.

My eyes scanned over the long almost barely legible letter. Kenny wrote this, maybe only a few days ago. It sounds a little dumb, but I could almost smell him on it. Dumb because I have no idea what a 19 year old Kenny McKormick smells like.

_Kyle_

_If you're reading this letter it's because I've finally kicked the bucket and for real. I'm allowed to be a little crude, I'm dead after all. Also if you have this letter it's because you've just learned about the terms I set for you to get all that money I left for you and Stan. It's a shit load isn't it? Can't say I'm not proud of myself for getting it all. You're probably blown that I've even left you a dime having not seen or talked to you in ages right? Well, what can I say? In my entire 19 years of life I've loved and trusted no one more than I have you and Stan. Mr. Z, the guy probably sitting in front of you, has said, numerous times I might add, that I'm crazy for leaving all this to you. He's said you could be a completely different person than from what I remember from childhood. That you could be some dishonest gambling drug addict by now; a reasonable argument on his part, after all you _do_ live in California. But I've got reason to believe that's cock and bull, that you're still relatively you. Now before I get to all that paperwork related crap though I have to ask, how've you been man? Long time no see huh? Well… I guess I'm not really seeing you since I'm dead and all but you get it right?_

_It would have been nice to ask you that while I was alive but hey, that's fucking life for you, you know? You may be scanning right past all this but I feel the need to like, fill you in on the past decade, at least a bit just in case you're curious and are actually reading all this. It's occurred to me that you might barely even remember me, that you might have like two memories of who I am, and I'm sure one of them includes my constant deaths right? _

_I'm trying to think where I should start, not much has happened in 10 years, but I might as well begin with after you left. Stan was a wreck dude, a fucking wreck. What's wrong with you for not keeping in contact with him? You two were best friends. Anyway, took him a while to bounce back, but he did, thanks to me of course and in turn we got closer. He started dating Wendy again, remember her? Kind of a tree hugging feminist? Anyway, they dated, cut things off when she moved to New York. Then, get this dude, he started dating Bebe Stevens. I don't care how little you remember about South Park, you have got to remember her? She had that huge crush on you, or at least your ass. They're engaged now… not exactly with my blessing. To be honest, I can tell you this, I don't like her much. There isn't anything wrong with her exactly, she's pretty smart actually… I've had to keep my eye on her a few times, anyway its not that I don't like Bebe I just don't think she's for Stan. Maybe you'll understand when you get the chance to meet her and see them together._

_Moving on, yours truly got two jobs, its how I saved all that money, I started playing the stock market after I heard that some people could win riches off it. I had to try it out, and look at them fucking apples; I play the game pretty damn well! Family's still poor though, couldn't let them know I had any money, rat bastards probably steal it all or strangle me in my sleep to get it. No one, not even Stan knew I had it all, I had to keep up the poor façade. Wasn't hard, I was born into it and no one was ever the wiser. Weird, considering _someone_ had to wonder what was becoming of all my paychecks, people probably thought I spent it all on booze and porn like my old man. Bit of advice Kyle learn from _other_ people's mistakes, don't make your own. I learned from my dad's and kept the doe in the bank where it belonged. Now I'm probably the richest 19 yr old you've ever met!_

_I know this is probably weird for you Kyle, reading a letter from a dead old friend, it's weird for me to write it. I'm trying to imagine your facial expressions as you read it. Are you surprised, smirking, laughing? You'd better not be crying, fucking hate criers. But just so you know I'm not blindly leaving it all to you. We've run into each other, literally last year. Sorta when I felt death approaching for the final time. Looked up Ike on Myspace, contacted him and he told me where you went, where you all were. You can hound him later if you think I'm lying. At the time I made him promise not to say anything to you. Bribed the little Canadian bitch a bit, but hey, he's human and about 1000 bucks richer._

_I flew over there, talked to some people, and found you. Saw you walking across the campus quad and damn Kyle you've fucking changed! The only thing that's remotely the same is your eyes and your religion. When did you get that ear pierced? You look good dude, _real_ good. I knew you would grow into your looks and that red bob you liked to call hair. I didn't want to interrupt your new world, I didn't see the reason to give you a South Park wake up call. Nah, I just wanted to see you for myself, just to see if you'd remember me. I slammed real hard into you, your books went flying everywhere, we drew a lot of attention. And dude you looked right at me, right at me and didn't bat an eye. Didn't even know it was me, harsh man. I thought I'd see some sort of recognizing glint in your eye, but nothing. Oh well, I wasn't mad, just amused, after that I went back home and never told Stan I saw you. You can tell him if you want, I don't care either way. It was just good to see you again before I was smited for the last time by God or Satan. _

_Now down to business, I'm sure Stan can fill you in more on the past ten years if you want to know. So, the contract. Stan called me a son of a bitch when he read it didn't he? I'm laughing at the thought right now; I can see him doing that. I know he did that. Good ole predictable Stan. Okay, the wording is probably a little cocky and shit because I went to a "professional" to have it written up so it'd be notarized, so you guys couldn't pussy foot your ways around it. I know it sounds like a lot. I'm sure you'd rather just fuck off the money and go back to Stanford, but all I'm asking is that in order to get everything I've left for you is to sign a lease on an apartment with Stan and live with him for a few months. You probably need the time off from school anyway. I'm not asking you guys to get hitched or for you to drop out of Stanford in the middle of the semester, but put off the upcoming one, and move back to South Park. Once you two share a place for 4 ½ months you can collect the money and take back off to California. You never have to see Stan again if you don't want._

_Bit of a crazy idea of mine, but roll with me. You and Stan? I don't care what that black haired idiot bff of mine says, you two shouldn't have split ways. I just want you to be there for Stan, and he can be there for you. I have no idea how much my death will affect you; you really might not give a shit. But Stan, he isn't going to be doing so well, and I wouldn't trust Bebe within a ten feet pole of him to make sure he turns out okay. Have you seen his Uncle Jimbo? You probably haven't, but dude he ain't the same since Ned (his bff) passed, I don't want that to be Stan. He'll play it off like he's okay, but he'll probably attempt to hole himself off from the world, and I just… don't let him do that okay? It isn't healthy._

_You two were best buds once, be it again. At least try it out. Sign the contract Kyle, make sure he doesn't go off the deep end, and in the end even if you do decide you hate him at least you get a little over half a mill in money and stocks right? But I don't care how much California has changed you, I know you won't leave him like that, and I know you'll sign that paper. And in case you don't, know I'll haunt your ass and take over your body. I did for that fat fuck once I can do it for you too._

_Speaking of Cartman, he's the same piece of shit fat asshole. And I didn't leave him anything, so I'm sure he _is _spitting on my grave. Oh well, can't please everyone._

…_do this for me Kyle. We were friends when we were little and I know you have no reason to trust me, but it's the last thing I'll ever ask of you. Please. Take of Stan for me and we can catch up later, all three of us, in the after life._

_Kenny _

There was an attack of different emotions running through me as I finished his letter. Kenny's lawyer and Stan were both looking at me, I could feel that my eyes were glazed over and I glanced down at Stan's letter. I couldn't make out what it said but it was a fraction of what mine was.

Kenny had run into me, at Stanford. I remember that day. But he was wrong, yes I didn't recognize him, and there may not have been some sort of recognizing glint in my eye, but something in me had been telling me I knew him. I shrugged it off because I had been running late for class.

I'm feeling a lot better now though, lots of new questions, and maybe Stan can answer a few of them like Kenny said he could. I glance at him and turn to face Mr. Zanadaci.

I did need the time off from school. I was stressed as hell.

I nodded to him, and I could see Stan from the corner of my eye doing the same thing. The older man looked surprised but pulled out two pens from his desk and handed one to each of us. I quickly signed my name before I could really think of what I just did or the possible complications of it, and I saw Stan do the same.

I dropped the pen and looked at my signature. The semester ended in 1 month. In one month's time I'd pack up my bags and move back to South Park, Stan and I would get a place together and we'd deal with each other for 4 ½ months. I don't think it'll be that bad. He's only hostile toward me now probably because he thinks I didn't show up at the funeral, but I have plenty of time to explain myself and Kenny was right. We were all friends, and Stan and I had been the best. There isn't any reason why we can't be friends again.

Right now he doesn't look like Kenny's death is having a major effect on him, but I know the shock of me, this will and this contact has diverted his attention for the moment. I won't think about what he'll be like when the full weight of Kenny not returning hits him, not now anyway.

Leaning back in the comfy chair I look over the letter and smile. Yes, I remember him running into me that day. That guy had light blonde hair and blue eyes, he had a quirky smile too as he helped me pick up my books and there had been something conniving about that smile. Yeah, I remember that Kenny well and now I know what time did to his appearance.

**Stan**

I eyed the letter the lawyer handed me with suspicion. It's not that I didn't trust Kenny, he always knew what he was doing, even if it confused me in the beginning. But this? I don't know about this. He knows Bebe and I are engaged, he knows this would set back the post wedding a few months and he did it anyway. I opened the letter fiercely and saw the short message.

_Stan_

_You're reading this because I left, sorry I couldn't stick around, I'm sure I tried to come back, you know I would have. Now I was going to be a bit more sentimental and Kyle's letter is some 15 times longer than yours (for reasons you gotta understand), but fuck it. Just do this for me and sign the papers! You owe me since I'm 100 percent sure you bawled at my funeral. But you know you're forgiven for doing so. I love you dude, don't let me leaving you weigh you down too much okay? See you in the after life. You and Kyle take care of each other._

_Kenny_

Kenny…that asshole knew me too well. He knew I'd cried at his funeral, he knew I would too, probably so he could make me sign this paper and give into his dumb little contract to move in with Kyle for some time. Finishing I glanced up at Mr. Z as he eyed me, but I shook my head, refocusing my attention on Kyle and jumping slightly when I saw the length of the letter Kenny had written him. He got two and a half pages and I got a measly paragraph.

I raised my eyes to the window behind Zanadaci, wondering if Kenny was looking down at me laughing his ass off. Of course I was going to do this. I don't think I owed it to him, but if he wanted it I was going to do it for him. I frowned to myself thinking maybe I had averted my eyes to seek Kenny out in the wrong direction.

Where _had_ he ended up? He frequented hell a lot, for obvious reasons, but sometimes he was just so damn self sacrificing. I'm sure God was having a hell of a time deciding where he ought to go.

The lawyer and I continued to wait and watch Kyle as he read the letter. I watched and saw his small reactions. Sad, surprised, amused, sad again, amused again, jeez what had Kenny said in his letter? Proud, wow really surprised, now he's… I think he's blushing, now he looks serious, a little sad and he sighs in contentment as he finishes looking to me and Mr. Zanadaci. He nods and I know he's agreed to sign the paper, I nod too and jot my name on the line, handing the pen and the contract to Mr. Z. Kyle for some reason is smiling.

Zanadaci gathers Kyle's contract as well, staples them together and puts them back in the folder.

"Okay everything is set. When you two find a place together I'll need to get a copy of the lease to be sure you followed through, and I have strict instructions from Kenny to check up on you both." He adds more when I give him a weird look, "To be sure you don't just lease the apartment together on paper and then go your separate ways without living together for the four and a half months."

"Thought of everything didn't he?" I mutter and he nods with a small smile.

"Once the four and a half months are up the money and stocks will automatically transfer into both your accounts and your names and then you're both free to go wherever you please."

The both of us nodded, and stood, as he had signaled that was the end of the meeting.

"Thanks Mr. Zanadaci," Kyle said softly shaking his hand. The man shook it back with a small smile.

"Sure thing, if you two need anything or have any questions later on just give me a call." He handed Kyle his card. I already had one. "Stan," he nodded at me.

"Thanks," I said nodding back and the both of us made our way out of the office and back to Kyle's car. He rounded to the drivers seat and sat in, looking at me expectantly when I didn't sit in the passengers seat.

"I can give you a lift home," he said. "Still live on the same street?"

"No, Bebe and I got a place in the middle of town together."

He nodded silently.

"Kyle," I rubbed the back of my neck. I was still pissed that he didn't attend any of the events in Kenny's honor, but with this new thing to deal with I was willing to put my anger aside at the moment, for Kenny. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"I wasn't going to stay the night, I was going to just head home."

"I think you should stay, there's some things we need to talk about concerning that contract."

"Yeah…"

"Want to stay at my place? Bebe won't mind, I'm sure she wouldn't mind seeing you again."

"…are you sure, I could rent a hotel room?"

"It's your choice," I said, looking down at him in his car. He was thinking of his options before he nodded to himself.

"I think I'll take your invite then."

"Good," I sat in his car. "Start heading up the street and turn on the second left. I live right in the heart of town."

**-FG**


	7. Stan III

**AN: **On the updates, the plan is to have the story finished by the end of September so I can shift my focus over to Weiss and a new Trigun story, basically away from SP for a bit. That's the plan in any case; let's see if I can actually do it. And I'm so happy I'm spreading the Kenny love! Now Kenny's a good guy, but even he has some faults.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

We drove in silence to my place, the only time I talked was to give Kyle directions on where to turn and where he could park his car. I climbed out right away while he looked through the window up at the three story apartment complex. I waited for him to grab his bag out of the trunk before skipping up every other step to get to the second story apartment Bebe and I had gotten together.

Rummaging for my key that was buried deep inside my pockets I saw from the corner of my eye as Kyle stopped walking to stand beside me. He was looking around the place outside of the complex.

"It's new," I said to him, finding my key.

"What is?"

"The apartment complex, it was built last year."

Kyle nods and I open the door, the smell of cooked peaches fills the air. I tossed my keys on the side table that was against the wall next to the door.

"Bebe?" I called out and ushered Kyle inside, letting him close the door on his own.

"Stan?" She whipped her head around from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I said walking toward her. She wrapped me in a tight hug. "Are you cooking peach cobbler?" I asked softly.

"Uh huh," she said with a small smile. Pulling back from me she cupped my face with both her hands to look at me. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, before resting it on her shoulder against her neck, sighing in contentment as she stroked my hair. "I thought you said you weren't ever going to make that stuff again after the cobbler incident?" I asked her.

"I figured I'd make an exception today."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

I would have forgotten all about Kyle had he not cleared his throat.

"Oh yeah," I said dejectedly and pulled away from Bebe's shoulder. She just now seemed to realize as well that there was someone else in our apartment. She looked at Kyle curiously before turning to me in question. "Kyle," I stated simply and watched her eyes widen, gasping slightly, before she turned back to face him.

"Kyle! Your- You," she laughed softly. "Give me a hug!"

Kyle blushed slightly before dropping his bag on the floor and doing so. "Good to see you Bebe," I heard him mutter to my fiancée.

"You too!" She said pulling away. "You look so different, you look incredible!" Bebe turned to face me with a look. "You see?" She began to me. "I told you he'd show up to the funeral!"

Before I could say anything she rounded back to Kyle, "you should have seen him, he was in such a state! Freaking out over you not being there!"

"Actually Bebe…" Kyle rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I didn't go."

Bebe looked confused as she waited for an explanation, "I got a bit… distracted. With… memories and stuff that I sorta missed it. And then when it came time for the burial Mrs. Marsh came across Wendy and I, told us Stan was nowhere to be found and we agreed to go off looking for him. Only being the distracted people we were, we failed to get each other's numbers to alert the other when someone did find Stan and I ended up missing the burial too."

"Oh that's horrible!" Bebe told him. "Isn't that horrible Stan?" She asked, looking back at me.

I nodded slowly as I stared at Kyle. He stared back at me, with an apologetic face. I turned away to look back at Bebe.

"Bee, Kyle hasn't got a place to stay tonight, do yo-"

She interrupted me before I could continue, "then Kyle you must stay the night here! You'll stay won't you? Of course in this small apartment we don't have a spare bedroom, but the couch is one of those fold outs and I purposely got one of those really comfortable ones."

Kyle smiled down at her, "thanks, I'd love to. Stan actually already invited me; I'm relieved you don't mind."

"Of course I wouldn't mind! It's just so good to see you again! Where have you been all this time?"

"Um," Kyle looks up at me but my eyes avert to the bathroom when I hear the sink turn on.

"Who's in the bathroom?" I ask Bebe.

"What was that? Oh! Wendy! Stan, Wendy's here! I told you I invited her to the funeral right? Well we ran into each other at the reception and I invited her back here. We haven't seen each other in awhile and I figured you both might want to see each other."

I pinch my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Stan are you okay?" She asks me again as I open my eyes. "I thought you'd want to see her?"

"Of course I'd love to see Wendy again. Any other day of the goddamn year! Why do you think I skipped the reception in the first place? I didn't want to see anyone!"

Before she can respond we hear the bathroom door open and I watch as the girl, who can only be Wendy Testaburger, my old flame, step out of the bathroom. She smiles gently at me, "hey Stan."

I nod at her, giving her a shaky smile as I try not to flee the room. I didn't need or want all this. Kenny's dead, my old best friend is standing awkwardly in the living room, and the girl I thought I'd end up marrying is walking up next to the girl I am going to marry.

She seems to sense that, Kyle too. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," they both say together and Wendy turns at Kyle's voice.

"Kyle!" She exclaims, "Shit! I am so sorry! I couldn't stop the burial, most people didn't even know who I was talking about when I mentioned you weren't back yet, and I couldn't find Mrs. Marsh in that hoard of people!"

Kyle smiles miserably at her, "Hey its okay. I figured you might have tried."

Wendy nods sadly back at him before rounding back at me and Bebe, "anyway, I- Bebe maybe we should all catch up later… at a more appropriate time. I'll be in South Park for a week anyway; I'm staying at the hotel that's right outside town."

"Did you need a ride there?" Kyle pipes up, "I'm thinking maybe its best if I stayed there too."

"I told you, you could stay here so you're staying," I tell him stubbornly. He says nothing, but nods silently.

A loud silence fills the air for a moment before Bebe interrupts it to talk to me. "Stan I made you a lunch, since you didn't go to the reception." She turns to Kyle as an afterthought, "and there's plenty enough for you to have some as well Kyle."

He nods and Bebe continues on to me, "The cobbler'll be done in fifteen minutes."

I nod numbly, before something registers. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I have an appointment with this cake decorator in about a half hour about the cake for the wedding."

"What!" I practically shout at her. Seeing Wendy and Kyle wince and exchange glances I drag my fiancée into our bedroom and shut the door, turning on her the second I do.

"Bebe you can't leave me to meet a cake decorator! We only just buried Kenny today! I sorta wanted you around since my best friend just died!"

She purses her lips together as she looks at me, raising a hand to attempt to cup my cheek but I twist my head away to glare at her.

"You know how hard this day would be on me and you're leaving?"

She sighed heavily, "I know Stan its just… well, Wendy is coming with me, but Kyle is here for you!"

I look at her incredulously, "and how is that comforting for me? I haven't seen him in 11 fucking years! What good is he to me! He didn't even know Ned had died Bebe! It'll be like talking to a stranger for fucks sake! Besides, you had no way of knowing he'd "be here for me," as you call it!"

"I realize that Stan, but…it took forever to schedule the meeting with this cake decorator since she's so well known and… we'd never get another appointment with her. She's booked for 15 months! We're lucky to get this rare day with her at all."

I stare down at her, "Bebe…" I start carefully. "You did not just say all of that."

She finally seems to realize the absurdity and starts to respond, but I cut her off. "No, you know what… just, just go. Go meet with the famous fucking _cake_ decorator. Make sure it'll be a great cake, that way on our wedding day when I'm eating the damn thing I can think 'hmm, good thing I had my wife meet with the cake decorator on the day my best friend was buried six feet under, BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING FAB!'"

She winces as I raised my voice, "I'm sorry, I don't have to go, I won't go."

"Oh no, you're going all right." I tell her tersely, "there's no sense in you missing another appointment you promised someone you get to. No point inconveniencing someone else!"

"I never promised I'd be with you all day, you never asked me too!"

"I shouldn't have had to ask you! Kenny died Bebe, he died! If a single one of your friends died you know where I would be all day? With you, no questions asked, you would come first before class, before work…"

"…tell me one time I came before Kenny," she suddenly whispers as a reflection. "One time." She doesn't give me the chance to respond before she continues, "you know what, never mind. I'll just stay here with you okay?"

I stare at her for a long moment and shake my head. "No, I don't want you to anymore. Just go all right."

Bebe studies me for a moment, her face giving nothing away before she turns and starts to head out the door. After a second I jump to grab her wrist and turn her around, pulling her into a crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," I mutter to her. "You're right, I always put him before you and I'm sorry." After a few moments she embraces me back. I do feel a little guilty; Kenny had always been my top priority because I was his. He never had the family he could rely on so I had done everything I could to make up for their absence. Even when Bebe and I got serious in our later high schools years it still wasn't unusual for me to cancel plans with her because Kenny needed me for something. At least I'll never do it again. I pull away after awhile remembering that both Wendy and Kyle are still waiting out in the living room.

"I can still cancel the appointment," Bebe says looking up at me.

"No, go."

"Stan-"

"I want you to," I interrupt. "Make sure that decorator designs the best goddamn cake of her life for us okay?"

Bebe smiles softly before kissing me. I pull her in closer intensifying the kiss, needing the comfort that is soon going to leave me. When we pull apart we're both out of breath and I see her face is cutely flushed. I kiss her nose before opening the door for her and we walk out into the living room together to see Kyle and Wendy talking quietly to each other on the couch. They look up when they see us come in the room.

"I'll make sure we get together later on Wendy," I tell her and she nods, standing alongside Kyle.

"Come on then Wendy," Bebe says grabbing her keys. "I'll see you later on this afternoon okay Kyle?"

Kyle nods and watches as I pull my fiancée in for one last kiss before her and Wendy leave the apartment. Just as they do a timer goes off and I turn heading for the kitchen. The cobbler must be ready. Pulling it out, I inhale the wonderful smell and place it on a cooling rack before turning off the oven.

Opening the fridge I peek at its contents and see a plate filled with sandwiches, a homemade potato salad, and a pitcher of iced tea inside. The lunch Bebe was talking about.

"Hungry?" I call out loudly for Kyle to hear me.

"I could eat," his voice says softly and I turn my head from the fridge to see him standing in the little dining room that's right off the kitchen.

"What?" He asks suddenly as he flips his long bangs out of his face, running a hand through his hair afterward.

"Nothing," I shake my head. "You just look really different is all."

"Oh."

"Not bad different," I say turning my attention back to the refrigerator as I pull out the food. "Good different."

"…thanks." He answers hesitantly and watches as I start to pull out plates and utensils for the potato salad. I pick the sandwich I want and place the amount of p salad I'd like on my plate; pouring myself a large glass of iced tea. Putting all that aside, I work on Kyle's plate.

"What do you want?" I ask. "Looks like Bebe made turkey and swiss, ham and cheddar, and chicken salad."

"Chicken salad then," Kyle tells me and I put the sandwich on a plate.

"How many scoops of potato salad?"

"Just one," he answers and I scoop out one helping.

"Tell me when," I say to him as I start to fill up another glass of iced tea.

"…when." He says after a time, when the drink is near the top of the glass.

I put everything back and gesture for Kyle to take his plate as we sit at the small dining table that is seated to make room for four. We sit across from each other and start to eat silently.

"How long have you and Bebe been engaged?" He suddenly asks me after a particular bite of his sandwich.

"Ten months."

"When's the wedding?"

"In two months, but I might..." I trail off and he waits expecting me to finish but I just shake my head.

He nods and goes back to his food. Watching him as he eats, I'm almost filled with a desire to know. To know why he dropped me, why he didn't try to stay in contact. "Kyle?" I start slowly and he looks up at me in anticipation. "Why did you…" I can't do it, I can't ask him. "Never mind," I finally mutter going back to drinking a few huge gulps of iced tea.

Another length of awkward silence reigns between us. "It's nice," Kyle finally says before the silence becomes too thick.

"What is?" I ask eating.

"Your apartment."

I shrug, "Bebe picked it out and everything in it. The only things I wanted say on were the television and the bed."

"How can you pay for all this?" He asks, eyeing some of the more expensive pieces of furniture.

"We can't. It's called credit card debt; unfortunately Bebe has expensive tastes… in everything." I add when I remember looking at the numbers of how much the wedding is costing. I thanked God everyday that the brides' parents paid for the wedding. "We'll have to get cheaper stuff, that or a fully furnished apartment."

"What? Oh…right."

Clearly Kyle had already forgotten our new little agreement. I was already thinking of how I was going to tell Bebe this. How to inform her the wedding that was planned for two months in the future could go on as scheduled but that we couldn't live together for an additional two months, all because of what Kenny asked of me. I cringed at the thought.

"I know that's why I'm staying here, to talk about that, but-" Kyle paused to look at his plate. "Could you tell me a little bit about… uhmm, that is to say, could you tell me about Kenny?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I remember his personality from when he was nine, but… he probably changed."

"Yeah just a little," I put down my fork and rain my hand through my hair, sighing. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my best friend, but I couldn't blame Kyle too much. He was just informed he got half of what Kenny had saved up from, and he barely remembered the guy. "Come on," I said standing, ditching the food, pushing my chair back to walk into the adjoining living room. I could hear Kyle do the same, and saw him from the corner of my eye as he sat on the couch.

I grabbed a few albums that were on the bottom of a bookcase. Sitting beside Kyle I sighed and opened the book, flipping to the first page and pointed at the introductory picture. "This is the most recent picture of Kenny and I, only taken about two weeks before he…" I trailed off as something came to me. I had wondered why he had been so insistent on them, but I had flowed with it. It wasn't that I had a problem with taking pictures with him, I just didn't see the need at the time. We didn't normally take pictures together, just because. There had to be some sort of reason, an event because we already had albums and stacks of pictures together, ten years worth.

I got it now, and went to flip over to the next page, but Kyle rested his hand on mine to stop me. I looked carefully at him, but his eyes were on the picture. He brushed the photo of Kenny slightly.

"Light blonde, blue eyes," he muttered to himself in a confirming tone and I nodded confused. He moved his hand and I turned the page, handing the entire thing to put on Kyle's lap.

"Kenny…" I started. "He was a pretty normal guy. Middle school is kind of a pointless blur, but in high school he was well known. Most people still saw him as the token poor kid in class. He didn't seem to mind the title though, found it amusing most of the time, I never knew why especially since it bugged the crap out of him when we were younger."

"Yeah, I remember that," Kyle interrupted and I nodded to him.

"I mean, I guess I understand now. He wasn't as poor as anyone thought I guess… maybe his family was, but he wasn't." I shook my head, "all those times I paid for his food, movie tickets, concert tickets, everything… that bastard had plenty of money." When Kyle laughed lightly, so did I.

"Anyway," I said leaning against the couch, watching Kyle crouch over the album looking intently at the pictures. "Even though he was well known he wasn't anything special in high school. But most people knew him because he was a bit of a floater."

"Floater?"

"Yeah, he never stuck with one clique or sport, he floated around them all. So he was pretty much on good terms with everyone, save Cartman."

"Fat ass!" Kyle's head shot up and I laughed grimly.

"I'm sure all your memories with him are crystal clear huh?" Kyle didn't say anything. "Never mind him though, I'll get to him later on. Anyway, while Kenny got on well with most all the students he had issues with authority figures, a good portion of adults in general. He never took much of a liking to them, always thought they were out to fuck him over. And I suppose a number of them were. Teachers and police didn't care much for McKormick blood."

Kyle stopped looking at the pictures to look up at me as I smiled at the memories.

"Most days he was in detention, he got suspended at least once every few months, almost expelled once for trying to hit a teacher."

"Hit a teacher!" Kyle asked appalled and I stared at his green eyes.

"Trust me, that cock sucker had it coming. He always had it in for Kenny, ever since he stepped foot in his class. Something to do with Kenny's dad bullying him when they were in school together. Anyway, he went to jail a few times too, only once for fighting though, for tearing Cartman into a mess…. other than that he went mostly for underage drinking, skinny dipping in trespassed pools, and street car races, which is how he died actually…" I trailed off quietly.

"It was all for petty stuff like that, nothing really serious, he wasn't a crook…" I began again, deciding to not think of the car accident. "He carried that I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think-of-me attitude, which is why he attracted the respect of the students and the repulsion of the staff no doubt."

"…but how was he with you when it was just the two of you? How did he act then, not the same way right?"

I looked at the new Kyle. With his sunglasses still on his head, his nice black suit getting wrinkled sitting in his position. The way his hair fell over his inquisitive greens… "no, that's not how he acted with me. He already knew I wouldn't judge him, friends never do. Not real ones anyway. Around me, around me he acted normal. He joked and laughed, made some stupid comments, told the best stories. He was never on edge, never trying to prove himself to me. We spent almost every free second we had together."

"He sounds like how I imagined he would be at this age."

"Yeah?" I question Kyle slightly surprised as he nods. That makes me smile and I do as I glance through the balcony windows.

Kyle finishes with the album on his lap and we both reach down to pick up the next one, our hands brush and he apologizes and retracts his hands. I shrug indifference and hand it to him. He quickly opens the new one, laughing immediately out loud.

"What?" I ask leaning over, groaning when I see the picture.

"When was this taken?" He asks still chuckling.

I pout trying to remember. "When we were 14 I think. Even at 14 we were no match for my sister," I say smirking as I remember. Kenny and I were standing with forced smiles staring at the camera.

"What was the point in dressing you guys like girls?"

"Dolls," I corrected him and shrugged. "Just another reason to humiliate us on our first days of high school."

"She made you wear that to school!" Kyle asked and I shook my head.

"No way, my mom wouldn't have allowed it. She just snapped the picture of us looking like that, spent an entire paycheck, and made hundreds of copies of the picture to smother around the school." Kyle laughed harder as I sighed dejectedly. "The first month of high school was hell, we got teased constantly."

"I'm sure Shelly was pleased about that."

"You remember my sister?" I asked taken aback.

"Shelly? How could I forget that incident where we forget her tampons?"

"Ugh," I cringed. "Please don't remind me of that. But actually, after that first month of humiliation she made it pretty clear that no one but her was allowed to mess with me or Kenny. A twisted sort of sisterly love I suppose…"

"How is she anyway?" Kyle asked, as he flipped another page.

"Fine I guess. We don't talk that much since she moved to Denver with her boyfriend…" I paused remembering her farewell party. I had never been happier. "Anyway, back to Kenny, the one thing that was always so… different about him was that he did have that irritating air of mystery. I knew he was hiding something from me, and it wasn't just the money."

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked curiously, stopping in mid turn of page to stare hard at me.

"I felt like he was always planning something, like what he did with us and that contract. Things like that, he was always plotting. And I felt like he knew more about… just things than he let on."

Kyle looked slightly amused, and slightly knowing. Which didn't make any sense as he knew nothing of Kenny's personality; we both jumped as his cell phone went off. We calmed and I watched him fish it out of his pocket, he looked at the number and it looked as if an angry light went off in his eyes.

"Ike you asshole!" Was his greeting to his younger brother. "Yeah I've heard Kenny contacted you! Why didn't you tell me? I swear when I get home, I'm wringing your little flapping head! And how dare you accept $1000 from him, wait till I tell mom!"

I stand and walk off to give Kyle some privacy as he has a nice brother to brother talk with Ike. As I head into the bedroom I can't help but wonder what $1000 Kyle was talking about. I sat on the large bed Bebe and I bought and stare at a picture of Kenny and me at a football game. That was the year the Bronco's actually didn't bite. Turning my eyes away from the picture I glance at my closed door, hearing Kyle's faded murmurs.

It's weird having him here in my place. But its…well… nice and comforting aren't the words. More like normal, like he should have always been around. He fits here and talking with him about Kenny, as hard as it was made me feel a tiny better. I can't talk like that to anyone about Kenny in South Park since everyone in town already knows him. Everyone's already made their decisions on who they think he is. This is the first time I've had a nonbiased listener as I talk about who my best friend really was. And Kyle seemed to be taking it all in and accepting it. Living together might not be the worst, but I still wonder how much a big city Californian and a small town Coloradoan have in common, even if they were friends when they were little kids. Time and location change people and I don't expect Kyle or even for me to be exceptions to that rule.

**-FG  
**

**AN: **Yes, this story is going to be MUCH longer than I had anticipated. Ahaha, (:


	8. Eric

**AN: **I forgot about Cartman momentarily, I usually do. I suppose I could have written him off, but I feel you should understand where he stands in all of this and why he won't be around.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Eric**

"You really should go outside and play bubbly muffin," my mom says to me as I sit on the couch, watching TV, while I eat my favorite snack.

"Goddamnit mom!" I groan at her aggravated. "One I'm 19 years old, stop with the pet names, two 19 year olds don't go outside and play mother, we hang, third…it's not like I have anyone to hang with." I mutter the last part to myself.

"What was that hon?"

"Nothing."

"Well okay Eric, but you really should get some fresh air sweetie. You can't stay inside and pout forever. I know you miss your little friend Kenny, but I'm sure he'll come back he always does."

I say nothing to this and pointedly ignore my mother by staring hard at the television set. Letting her know, this conversation is over. She seems to get the hint and sighs to herself.

"I'm going to go run a few errands; did you need anything while I was out?"

"No."

"All right, see you later hon."

I slouch back in the chair once I hear the front door slam shut.

Miss my friend Kenny, I snort as I eat a few chips. Kenny's been dead since 6th grade, at least to me.

That treacherous piece of shit.

It was supposed to be me and him versus Stan and Kyle. That's how it was meant to be. But no, when the Jew left he went like a dog to Stan's side leaving me behind. Which is fine, I don't care. I've never cared. The only person Eric Cartman needs is Eric Cartman.

Still… he wasn't supposed to really die. Not until we got our re-match, not until after I got to beat the living shit out of him like he did for me those years ago. Then I was going to say something clever as he lay on the ground bleeding and whimpering in pain.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, crushing the chips that are still in the plastic orange bowl.

Kenny had spit out blood from his mouth to the side before he glared at me. I had been in so much pain, and I had been so pissed. So fucking pissed off because that skinny looking twig had beaten the shit out of me. Pissed because he had insisted on fighting me without anyone to witness it, pissed because he had the chance to humiliate me in front of everyone and he still chose not too. Pissed, that the last words he ever spoke to me were true. And even then I had glared at him before averting my eyes. I never wanted him to know he was right. I'd have rather died.

"If you want to be my friend, be my friend. Stop acting like a jealous manipulative overbearing fuck, otherwise leave me the fuck alone Cartman."

That was the last thing he ever said to me, and even in my pain my face was red, not from the blood or the sweat of the fight. From embarrassment, _embarrassment_. He wasn't supposed to figure me out, he wasn't supposed to be that smart. No one was supposed to know me that well. The type of person who knew me that like that was supposed to be my best friend forever, the one person in my whole life who I could count on.

But I never wanted to count on anybody. Instead of redeeming myself to him I spat in his direction. It didn't land on him, but he gave me a disgusted look before it melted into an impassive stare. And then he walked away.

I had been jealous; I never treated him like a friend. And I was easily a manipulative overbearing fuck. But what he had done to me was the worst thing he could ever do, so I called the cops. And I made sure I was there when they went over to his house to arrest him. When we had waited for him to open the door I was bouncing with glee, I couldn't wait to see his face. When he did open the door all my giddiness at the prospect of him being mad left. He looked like he had been expecting this.

"Ah, good afternoon Kenny!" Officer Barbrady had greeting him. He was probably the only cop in South Park who liked Kenny.

"Hey Barbrady," Kenny had responded but he had been looking straight at me. I was standing slightly behind the officer and was trying to contain my anger.

Get fucking pissed off! Is what I had been screaming inside of me.

"Kenny, Eric says you did this to him?" Barbrady went on, gesturing at my ripped and torn body. All the bandages that could be seen on my, face and neck, and my broken arm which was in a sling rested against my sore stomach were nothing of the normal exaggeration I've been prone to commit. He really did mess me up good.

I still had a little hope about screwing Kenny over. Maybe he'd deny it, if he did that there could have been an investigation, and we could have driven his family name further into the pit than it already was. He simply crossed his arms as he looked me up and down before turning to the fat cop beside me.

"Yeah, I did."

Yeah, I did! That's what he said. It took everything within me not to lunge at him. After all the humiliation I had to go through with admitting to the cops who had beat me up in the first place, he had the audacity to not even allow me any pleasure in his arrest!

Officer Barbrady frowned, "you know that's assault Kenny, and you know that's your third strike. If Eric pressed charges you could go to jail for a long time."

Kenny turned to look at me, "I know," he said.

"Just forget it," I muttered. "I'm not going to press charges." I had turned on my heel and stalked off heading back home.

"Eric!" Barbrady called out but I ignored him. What was the point in Kenny going to jail for a year if he didn't care? If he just expected and accepted it without even a sneer, scoff, or angry upset glare at me? Just so I could know that I affected him in some way. Instead he looked at me like I wasn't even there! Fucker. He got arrested and landed in jail for a thirty day term and after that I left him alone, and I never spoke to him again.

There was no way in hell I was going to admit that he had been right all along, and that all I wanted was for him to be at my side, not Stan's. Then I'd have to apologize to him, Stan, and everyone else. I was not going to do that.

And like that, I lost a friend. The only one I had. Or at least the only one who pretended. Yeah, Kenny knew me and figured me out better than anyone else could have. Better than my own mother, but he didn't like me. That would be asking for too much, and I didn't expect him to ever like me. Didn't matter as I didn't like him either. It was a friendship neither of us would have chosen, but we were best for each other anyway. I don't care what Marsh ever says, Kenny and I were the ones meant to be friends. Sure we hated each other's guts, but that made us perfect.

I'd never ask him for anything and he'd expect nothing. It was a friendship of hate and that's what would have made it great. Because we'd always watch each other. To make sure no one got the better of either of us, simply because _we_ wanted to get the better of each other.

I was the first to know Kenny was a little smarter than his redneck heritage ought to have allowed. Granted I didn't know how smart until after I lost him as a friend, but even before…I knew he had the brains and potential to match my own.

All the times we fought and argued I still watched him like a hawk and he knew it, regardless that he never mentioned it. When Kenny was 14 he got two jobs, when he was 16 he bought a car that looked like it'd dissemble at a stop sign. That was the only thing I ever saw him buy. His clothes were the same, everything about his life continued to scream poor. But Kenny was smart, in school and out. Teachers hated him like they hated me but he still excelled in their classrooms. Maybe an additional, fuck you, to them.

But if he was that smart in school, he couldn't be doing drugs. And I know he wasn't dealing since I had once had my hand in that pot and his name never came up. He drank underage, like everyone but you could hardly call him an alkie. He was more a social drinker, which really wasn't much. He never smoked either and he didn't gamble. I knew my way around those rings as well.

It got me thinking, where all his money was going. Took me about a year before I realized it was probably going into a bank. At first I had thought that maybe he was saving up to get his parents a new house or something. I didn't think that for too long. No kid hated their parents more than he did his.

I still don't know what the point was in saving all that money had he lived. Probably just to beat the life he grew up in, but now he's dead so he doesn't get the chance to find out if he could. And Kenny wouldn't just let the government take it all, he's not stupid even if he looks that way. Which means he had a plan, a big one no doubt. I know I could find out, just ask certain people, and threaten a few others. It wouldn't be hard, maybe I could even squirm some of that money my way. It's got to be a ton by now.

…but I'm not going to because he'd expect it. I'm just going to sit back and let everything take its natural course. That's something he wouldn't expect, he doesn't have me so figured out as much as he thought.

When I first heard the news that Kenny died, I didn't believe it. Why should I have? But he didn't come back and I hadn't known what to think. I hadn't known what to think the day he died and up to his funeral. I think people thought I had been spending that whole time mourning. Walking around in a daze, acting like I missed the friend I had but yet didn't have.

After the funeral, beyond the reception when I finally got back home and was able to lock myself in my room with some punch and pie I cracked. I started laughing and I couldn't stop, I felt this insane adrenaline rush and I liked it. All I could see was Stan. Stan who I've never blamed for taking Kenny away from me, even though he sorta did. The guy out of my childhood friends who I never really had a problem with. All I could see was him, and the way he yelled at us all for not caring about Kenny. Him storming out, and even though I never got to see it, I heard he had cried. Cried like a fucking kindergartener. And I just laughed, so hard my sides hurt, tears had been streaming down my eyes.

Because now, now he got to see what it felt like to have someone you thought you could count on abandon you for something better. I didn't have to lift a finger.

I smirk to myself as I pick up the remote to change the channel, stopping it when I see my favorite television show is on. As I reach down to pick up more chips I frown when I see I've smashed them all into tiny little annoying bits.

Grumbling I set the bowl aside and head back into the kitchen to get some more. Taking out another bag I walk back to the living room and dump it in the orange bowl. Before placing my hand in I hesitate. The bowl sort of reminds me of Kenny's old orange parka.

I rub my eye with the back of my hand when I feel a stinging sensation. Refocusing back on the TV show I decide to call my mom once the shows over. I'm going to have her pick up some eye drops for me. My eyes are all wet, I must be getting pink eye.

**-FG**

**AN: **I hope…that made sense. O.o?


	9. The Simplicity of Peach Cobbler

**AN: **A Bebe chapter, but not in her POV, hence the reason why the chapter isn't titled in her name. Because it's in italics it's taking place in the past. Also my internet connection hasn't been working, I'm on my sisters notebook, but _hopefully _updates won't be delayed too much because of it.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**The Simplicity of Peach Cobbler**

_Bebe Stevens was a relatively smart girl. Blonde yes, but a bimbo? Not quite. She had been a promising person all her life and when she landed Stan Marsh's love, she imagined herself to be on top of the world. She couldn't have been happier, his family loved her, he loved her and all his friends loved her. She felt she was getting a second family, well almost. There was one person, whom she had never seen eye to eye with, or she would have but he didn't seem to care for her._

_Currently she was sitting, having a pleasant dinner with her family and Stan's._

_They were the only two not talking, herself and Stan's best friend since the 6th grade, Kenny McKormick. Kenny was staring at her, as she stared back at him. Irritation began to fluster her as she realized that he was scrutinizing her. Judging her. _

_This wasn't the first dinner the two family's were sharing since Stan and Bebe had been together. The Stevens's and the Marsh's seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company and to them this was just another get together. So naturally the fact that Kenny was at the table irked her. The first time Bebe and Stan's families were going to meet each other knowing they were a couple Kenny had been invited and she had quickly protested._

"_You invited Kenny? But Stan this is the first time our families are meeting knowing we're together. Shouldn't it just be us?"_

_Stan had given her an odd look, "Kenny is family, why wouldn't I invite him?"_

_He had seemed firm on the subject, but she wasn't going to let it slide. "I understand how close you guys are, I know just as much as anyone else does, but can't he be left behind this one time? Please, for me?"_

"_No Bebe."_

"_Stan!"_

"_What!" She had been starting to aggravate him._

"_What would you think if I asked one of my friends to come along!"_

"_I'd say the more the merrier, because if your friends meant that much to you I wouldn't deny you their company," Stan turned and walked into the bedroom and she could hear him calling Kenny, his cheerful demeanor returning. She had lost that fight. She had lost every single one concerning Kenny._

_And now here they were again, having dinner with what was supposed to just be the Stevens's and Marsh's, but instead with that annoying addition of one McKormick. What pestered her more about the situation was that no one except herself found a problem with Kenny being there. Not even her own parents objected it to it. When she had complained to her mother about him Mrs. Stevens had given her daughter an unreadable look._

"_But isn't Kenny family to Stan?" Her mother had asked and she nodded begrudgingly not saying anything more on it to her._

_Honestly she wouldn't have minded Kenny's presence at the dinner table, if Kenny didn't treat her they way he did. She wasn't sure why either, she never had been sure. She had been dating Stan almost as long as Kenny had become close friends with him. If everything was right in the world she'd be friends with her boyfriend's best friend. Nevertheless she always tried, she'd told herself to continue to be polite to the other blonde, and actually Kenny received it well. He was never impolite to her, for the most part he acted indifferent. At least that's how he sounded when he talked to her, he talked as if no one could bore him more, so not exactly rude. But not nice either._

_Just as she was about to put on her fake tight smile and ask Kenny how work was Stan spoke up over her, and everyone else, shushing the whole family to demand attention. Bebe glanced at Kenny, he was relaxing his head on his hand which was propped up as his elbow rested on the table looking up at his friend._

"_Thanks everyone for coming over again tonight, mom, Mrs. Stevens dinner is amazing even without my help."_

_The two older women laughed as they continued to eye Stan._

"_Only tonight's dinner is a little different, all the people I care the most about are present in this one room alone. So I felt this dinner was best of all to ask Bebe a question," with that Stan had turned to look at her and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. She knew what was coming, she hadn't expected it but the look on Stan's face was already asking her to marry him and she couldn't wait for the words to form on his pink lips._

"_Bebe," Stan began softly, pushing the chair behind him away so he could properly kneel on one knee._

_As her heart began ramming in her chest, she felt the entire room hold their breath as they watched the scene. _

"_I know we're young, but I know we can make this work. You've been there for me for years and I know you'll continue to be, so…"_

_Bebe was practically leaning out of her chair, along with everyone else._

"_Would you do me the honor of moving in with me?"_

"_What?"_

_It seemed as though her family and the Marsh's were sharing the same reaction. She chose that moment to glance at them all, seeing Kenny roll his eyes._

"_S-Stan I…-" She started but he had cut her off with an amused soft kiss._

"_I'm kidding sweetie, would you marry me?" He asked pulling out a simple yet elegant ring from his pocket and holding it out to her._

"_Stan Marsh!" She had yelled in part aggravation, and part relief, but mostly happiness. "Of course I will!" They shared a laugh and another kiss as Stan pulled her in closer for a hug. "Don't you ever do that to me again," she whispered and giggled as Stan kissed her ear._

_Everyone had been laughing and hugging happily, complementing the ring, congratulating the newly engaged couple, except Kenny. He was still in the same spot, with his head resting on his hand eyeing her and everyone else. For the first time she was going to ignore his sour attitude toward her and relish in the thought that she was going to marry Stan Marsh!_

_But Kenny had surprised her; he stood and walked over to their side of the table, kissing her carefully on the head, "congratulations." He said to her as he turned to give Stan a hug, Stan had just finished laughing over his proposal with his dad as he turned to his friend._

"_You're not leaving are you?" He asked incredulously._

_Kenny nodded, "work calls."_

_Bebe would have been content with that, but Stan had grabbed Kenny's wrist keeping him from leaving. He stood and took a few closer steps to his friend._

"_Why are you really leaving?" She heard Stan whisper to his friend. Their families were still talking cheerfully to each other so no one but Bebe was paying attention to this exchange, and even she was pretending to be involved in a conversation with her mom and Mrs. Marsh._

"_Work," Kenny pressed and pulled his wrist from Stan's grasp. "Go back to your fiancée and future family."_

"_Is that what this is about? Kenny, you're family too!" Stan hissed angrily to the blonde guy._

"_I know, I didn't mean it to sound like that. If you want to talk, call me tomorrow we can do lunch, I'm going to be late. Bye everyone," he added last minute and louder._

_Bebe watched every head look up, "bye Kenny," or "see you later Kenny" or "bye sweetie" was chorused back to him. And he smiled at them before giving her an unreadable look, but a nod as he left the room._

_She could see his leaving annoyed, angered and confused her fiancée. But that was nothing new._

_It was a little later when she realized that Kenny – if possible – liked her less and yet was more polite to her. Probably something Stan had said to him. It got her thinking over the next few days - the sudden calm attitude he had toward her - he was up to something._

_A few weeks after Stan had proposed Bebe was out grocery shopping, not for much food just for a few choice items. Grocery shopping was something Stan preferred to do. She was calmly testing the firmness of a peach when the hair on her back suddenly stood. Glancing to the side she saw why, Kenny was in the store, holding his own small hand basket staring at her. Upon catching him stare he suddenly smiled, waved and made his way toward her._

_She dropped the peach and smiled back, just as phony, waiting for him to approach._

"_How are you Bebe?" He asked, raising a critical eyebrow as he took in the few things in her basket._

"_I'm fine, and you?"_

"_Good."_

"_Food shopping?" she asked._

"_That is why I'm in a grocery store."_

_She said nothing, and looked back to the peaches, almost as if casting Kenny away, giving him the opportunity to leave, but he didn't. _

_It annoyed her. _

_Stan wasn't around, her parents weren't, Stan's weren't so there was no reason they had to engage in pointless small talk._

"_I never did compliment you on your engagement ring Bebe."_

_She looked back up at the blonde, then to her ring. She couldn't help smiling adoringly at it. "Yes, Stan has good taste."_

"_He does… usually."_

_Bebe snapped her head to look back at him, she didn't like the way he said 'usually'. "What's that supposed to mean?" She countered back through narrowed eyes. Kenny merely smirked down at her before turning to look at the peaches, picking up one himself testing its firmness._

"_Hmm?" He questioned back offhandedly, as if he had no idea what she meant. He put the peach he was holding in a bag with a few others before focusing his eyes on the peach she had in her hand. "May I?" He asked suddenly and she nodded confused, not sure by what he meant to do._

_He squeezed the fruit gently, glancing again at her basket and seeing all the ingredients. "You're making a pie?"_

"_A cobbler in fact," she told him testily. _

_Kenny nodded, "Stan's favorite comfort food," he said mildly and put her peach back with the hoards of others, for some reason she picked it back up._

"_I was going to use that one actually," she said defiantly._

_Kenny raised a blonde eyebrow at her, "that one? It's too firm."_

"_I like it fine."_

"…_of course you do, but regardless, that peach isn't good enough for a cobbler."_

"_What's wrong with it?" She questioned back annoyed._

"_It's going to be bitter and useless for the cobbler in the end. I guess if you want sour cobbler that one will work fine, but what a good cobbler needs is softer peaches. Like…" she watched as he felt through a dozen or so peaches before holding one up triumphantly. It was redder than the others, a darker shade of red orange. "Like this one. This one is soft and it'll bring out the best in the cobbler."_

_Bebe eyed the peach in his hand with contempt, and looked down at the one in her hand. "I think this one is good enough."_

"_Bebe that ones too firm."_

"_I don't think you understand the chemistry in a cobbler Kenny."_

"_I do more than you're willing to admit," he responded calmly._

"_This peach," she held out stubbornly, realizing that she and Kenny were grabbing attention. "Is all the cobbler needs! That piece of shit you're holding would never give the cobbler the love and devotion that I, - I mean - this peach could!"_

_Kenny laughed lightly, placing the peach in hand back with the others. "Calm down Bebe, you sound like that peach is an actual person. We're just talking about a simple dessert here, no need to get so defensive." He plucked her peach from her grasp eyeing it with the utmost curiosity. _

_Bebe hated the gleam in his eyes, that stupid cursed all knowing gleam as he looked at the fruit he had stolen from her hand. She knew they weren't talking about fucking peaches anymore. Saving Kenny from her further wrath was a cell ringing and she watched as Kenny pulled his out of his jean pocket. He grinned at the number._

"_Hey Stan," he answered eyeing her. "Mm-hm, I'm just shopping for some food. Uh huh…lunch sounds fine to me, the guys called the other day they said they were all up for a quick game next week…no I don't think Bebe will mind much," he said flashing her a brazen smile. "Right meet you later on, talk to you soon dude."_

_Kenny hung up the phone and gently tossed Bebe the peach, she caught it, barely, but she did. "I'll see you later Bebe, good luck with the cobbler, you'll need it with that peach. Be sure to tell me how it turned out, who knows…maybe I'm wrong about the cobbler. I doubt it though." And then he turned and walked away._

_Her eyes flickered to the peach Kenny had suggested she get; the stupid red orange one. She glanced behind her to be sure Kenny was good and gone before placing it with her own, and tossing them in a bag._

_Later that evening before she started making her cobbler, Stan walked in giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek. She smiled at him as he opened the fridge._

"_Can you take out those peaches for me?" She asked him as she took out a bag of flour from one of their cupboards. The apartment was still pretty bare, but the kitchen was fully stocked. They had just moved into their new place a couple days ago and loved every minute of it._

"_Sure," he said tossing the bag on the counter as he popped open a can of soda. "Making a pie?" He asked her._

"_Nope, a cobbler."_

_Stan grinned at her and opened the bag of peaches, feeling each one. He frowned slightly as he picked up one in particular. She saw him look over it, it was the peach she had been so insistent on buying._

"_What's the matter?" She asked her future husband._

"_Bee, you can't use this one. It's hard as a damn rock; it'll make the cobbler sour as hell. But this one," Stan picked up the red orange peach. "This one is perfect; you should have gotten more like this. Anyway," he took a gulp of his drink not noticing the frown marring his fiancée. "I'll be back, it looks like you forgot to pick up some sugar and we need some toothpaste anyway, I'm going to run down to the corner store, you need anything else?"_

_She shook her head, not answering but accepted Stan's quick goodbye kiss before walking out of the apartment. She glared at the red orange peach, stabbing it fiercely with a knife before throwing its remains down the garbage disposal. _

_The cobbler had been very bitter that night._

_Bebe Stevens was a smart girl. That's why when Kenny died, she had been relieved. Of course she'd been sad for Stan; losing one's closest friend couldn't be easy. But she couldn't ignore the fact that with Kenny gone, that small wedge she knew to be between her and Stan could close. Kenny had been the greatest obstacle between her and her husband to be. Now Stan could confide every last secret to her, now they could not just be husband and wife soon, but best friends as all married couples should be. She had found that aspect lacking in their relationship and had minded, but what could she have said? _

_A girlfriend of hers, Heidi, had told her to give Stan an ultimatum between herself and Kenny. She had laughed it off, saying she'd never make her man do such a thing. Driving home one day from class, what Heidi said had constantly been in her mind. It wasn't that she didn't believe what she had told Heidi as she found it to be true. People needed their friends. But what she would only ever admit it to herself, what she feared, was that if Stan had been forced to make such a choice… well, she didn't know if he would pick her._

_A few days later after the cobbler incident – as she would forever know it as – when the families had gathered for another dinner, she was surprised to see that Kenny had taken a spot right next to her. Stan looked over at the two of them, beaming in equal surprise, but grinned at the two people who meant the most to him. He was pleased in thinking they were finally and truly getting along._

_Bebe barely got to take a sip of water before Kenny opened his mouth, "how was the cobbler?" He muttered to her quietly, keeping his eyes on the plate in front of him so as not to attract Stan's attention._

_She tensed at the question, "it was… acceptable." She cursed to herself, she should have flat out lied._

_Kenny smiled into his plate as he shook his head, "you used your peach didn't you?"_

_She said nothing._

"_It wasn't very good was it?"_

_She still said nothing, but the hand holding her water glass was beginning to redden from her tight grasp around it. Kenny didn't seem to notice._

" _Like you said cobbler's have a chemistry to them. At least you realize now that, that peach was no good for the cobbler. I wouldn't worry Bebe, I'm sure it could have been good enough for someone else." He raised a knowing brow at her as if seeing if she understood. Without waiting for a response from her Kenny stood and cheerily walked over to help Mrs. Steven's carry in a promising looking chicken._

_Bebe frowned to herself. Yes; Kenny was never directly impolite to her and he was definitely up to something. She just had no idea what._

**-FG**


	10. Kyle III

**AN**: We are now returning to the present story line! (: Kyle's been having such short chapters so I thought I'd give him a nice long one. I want him to know that even though Stan's my favorite in the series and Kenny in fanfiction that I still love him! (: The next few chapters will be coming out a lot slower. The first 11 were more or less planned out, the rest, not so much. Also with back to school, I'm…going back to school and work has increased my hours since we've lost our summer staff. So guess what takes a back seat? Fanfiction! Onward ho!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

I'm starting to think that maybe agreeing to spend the night at Stan's won't be such a great idea. Emotions are still high, I can tell by the way Stan and Bebe are fighting in their bedroom. What's making it more uncomfortable is that Wendy is sitting right here beside me and we're pretending like we don't hear the soon to be newlyweds going at it.

"I really am sorry Kyle," Wendy apologizes to me again. "I just couldn't get a hold of anyone that would have the power to postpone the burial."

I shook my head at her, "really, its… well, it's not okay, but you tried."

She nods looking down at her hands.

"So you and Bebe ran into each other at the reception?" I asked her lightly changing the subject.

"Yeah, she invited me personally to the funeral but we didn't see one another till the reception. Its' too bad you didn't get the opportunity to go to that. A lot of friends we had when we were little were there. I even mentioned that you were in town… where were you if not the reception?" She asks suddenly curious. "Stan didn't go either, but I can understand why."

"For one," I begin bitterly, "I didn't even know there was a reception. Stan failed to mention that to me, second-" I stop myself before I mention how Stan and I went to Kenny's will reading. There shouldn't be any reason why we can't tell others the condition of the will and what Kenny left us. People are bound to find out eventually if I'll be living here for four and a half months… but I still feel like I shouldn't. At least not until I've cleared it with Stan.

"Second?" Wendy pressing me gently.

I shake my head, "it's nothing."

"Oh… how'd you and Stan run into each other anyway?"

"When I came back to the cemetery he was still around I guess."

"Was it awkward?"

I shrug, "a little. Not as bad as I thought it would be, but he was pretty pissed off at me since he thought I didn't go to the funeral or burial on purpose."

"I'd imagine, Bebe told me Stan actually called you out of the blue to invite you?"

I nod numbly, "after he hung up on me I probably stared at my phone for an hour." Both Wendy and I laugh picturing the scene. I really hadn't moved for a long time after he hung up. Even after I did set my phone down I couldn't finish the essay I had be writing, my whole day ended up being crap because I couldn't get the idea that Stan had _called_ me… only to invite me to a funeral.

"Hey, I should get your cell number before I forget," I suddenly pip up.

Wendy perks and nods reciting the number after I've gotten out my phone to type it in, I give her mine and we decide we should get together tomorrow before I leave.

"I know this nice smoothie place that's a little out of town?" She asks me and I nod.

"Why are you staying here so long anyway?" I ask her.

"Bebe asked me too, and then at the funeral, the burial and the reception I had ran into so many of the old girls that I decided to stay."

"You're not missing any class?"

"A lot actually," she laughed as I stared at her in shock.

"From what I remember Wendy Testaburger doesn't miss class," I say with a small smile.

She smiles impishly back at me, "hmm, no, that's why I brought a weeks worth of homework with me."

"That's more like it," I tell her grinning.

Before Wendy can respond we hear the sounds of Stan and Bebe emerging from their bedroom. Both look a little flushed and heated, but it seems their fight has passed…for now at least. Stan still looks a little upset and glances at the both of us as we stand.

"I'll make sure we get together later on Wendy," Stan tells her with a small nod in which she nods back with a smile.

"Come on then Wendy," Bebe says grabbing her keys. "I'll see you later on this afternoon okay Kyle?" She says looking pointedly at me.

Nodding I give her and Wendy a little wave and watch carefully as Stan grabs Bebe to give her a quick kiss before they head out of the apartment. Once they leave a buzzing noise follows directly after and Stan heads straight for the kitchen turning off the sound. After a few moments of looking around I follow behind him when I hear him ask if I'm hungry.

"I could eat." I tell him and watch as he turns to look at me as I shift my hair. It's not used to the frigid air anymore, and if I didn't know any better I'd think I saw it was starting to curl a little... Stan's still staring at me and he's starting to make me feel uncomfortable. Of the few people I've talked with today that I knew 10 years ago every single one of them has commented on my looks. I don't usually get that back home, everyone looks just like me but here I actually stand out and I'm not sure if I like it.

"What?" I finally ask him after he's staring starts to fluster me. Where his eyes always that intense of a blue? A chill runs down my back and I ignore it as I watch him turn back to the fridge.

"Nothing," he shakes his head. "You just look really different. Not bad different… good different."

The way he says it makes me hesitate with a response as I study him. Even though I'm already sick of people telling me how much my looks have changed it sounds…different coming from Stan, and I take it as the first compliment he's given me since I've been back.

As we eat I try to make conversation but he isn't having it. I'm not sure if it's because he's still thinking about Kenny, which would be understandable, or if it's because he's simply not interested in talking with me. During another silence of ours while eating I start to feel awkward. I'm just realizing the oddness of the situation. How weird I must look to him in this setting, eating his food sitting at his table. Like I'm some out of place cartoon character dropped in an alternate universe. Realizing how much I don't belong here makes me remember why I am here. Kenny. The guy who left me so much, the guy I don't know anything about. It doesn't seem right collecting half his life when I don't know what his life was about.

I look over at Stan. He probably doesn't even want to think about Kenny right now, but I need to know. Who is the 19 yr old Kenny McKormick, what's he really like? I got a good sense in the letter he wrote me. I smile inwardly remembering everything he told me. He is exactly how I figured he'd be at this age, but I want Stan's take on him, the best friend, my former one.

As I ask, I know I'm right, that the last thing he wants to do is fill me in on Kenny but he does anyway. Leaving our food behind we sit on his couch and he shows me albums filled with pictures of him and Kenny. I'm enraptured, there are so many pictures of them from all different ages and just by looking at them I can tell all the phases they went through, because I did too.

Even as I laugh and point out particular pictures I like, I'm really feeling melancholy. I could have been in these pictures, parts of these memories. I can visualize myself on the other side of Stan with an equally forced smile as Shelly takes our pictures dressed as dolls. I mean I wouldn't actually want to be forced to dress like that; it's the fact that as embarrassing as that memory is, it's still there. When I blink, my image beside Stan, smiling tightly with him and Kenny is gone. After all, I'm not really in any of these pictures.

The whole time I look at the photos Stan fills me in on who Kenny was. Some of its funny, some surprising. I wouldn't expect him to have such a vendetta against adults, but I can understand. Even when we were little they mostly patronized him which didn't make any sense. This was the same kid that had saved the earth's people twice. By agreeing to go back to hell after that whole war with Canada and then when he was in the war on the side of Heaven against Hell. How could a guy like that not get respect? It never made any sense.

I would expect an older Kenny to go to jail overnight for petty things like skinny dipping and street racing though, it almost makes me smile thinking of him like that. When he had bumped into me that day at Stanford I didn't realize it at the time but you could see that crazy reckless abandon for life he had. There was a lot of other things in those ice blue eyes of his, but at the time I was running late and I wasn't about to be even later to study some – what I had thought was – random guys eyes. Now I wish I had.

As Stan starts to tell me of Kenny's conniving ways, which I very much believe, my cell phone goes off. Reaching into my pocket I see my brother's cell phone number flash at me and I suddenly remember he knew Kenny had been looking for me.

"Ike you asshole!" I immediately bark into the phone.

He laughs in response, "Hey Kyle! So you know Kenny got a hold of me then?"

"Yeah I've heard Kenny contacted you! Why didn't you tell me? I swear when I get home, I'm wringing your little flapping head! And how dare you accept $1000 from him, wait till I tell mom!"

I take note that Stan rises and leaves my side to head into his bedroom; I look after him curiously as he closes the door.

"You can't tell mom anything!" He starts and I refocus my attention on my younger brother. "If you tell her about that I'll tell her that time you had that hit and run!"

"And I'll tell her when you broke one of the family heirlooms and threw it away in a panic when she thought she had lost it," I seethe to him. After a moment we both laugh and I forgive my brother. With all the blackmail we have on each other there's no point in telling our mother anything, we'd only screw ourselves over.

"So you made it there okay?" He asks me and I settle down on Stan's couch, vaguely remembering that I'm crushing a new Armani.

"Yeah."

"How was the funeral and everything?"

"I wouldn't know," I tell him lamely and fill him in on everything I missed.

"Way to go Kyle. I knew you'd end up spending too much time brooding over everything. You always over think situations."

"Shut up," I say rudely, closing my eyes. "Look, I'm going to be spending the night here at Stan's so I'll be a day late. Tell mom that so she doesn't think I've gotten into a car accident and died on her." I wince at what I said, that was a bad choice of words.

"I'll pass it on… so you're at Stan's place huh?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Maybe I'm too depressed to come home right now!" I snap at Ike and listen to him snort.

"I doubt it…I know Kenny was your friend and all so it'd be normal that you'd miss him, but face it Kyle you don't really know Kenny, so I doubt you're depressed, maybe a little glum but not depressed. Why are you really still there?"

Even at 9 years of age I knew my brother was too smart for his own good, he could go to college now even though he's only 14 if he wanted to. Our parents even encouraged him, but he was firm in staying with his friends, agreeing to only take college level classes on the side.

"I'll tell you later, now isn't the time."

"…Okay, give me a call when you get back to school then."

"I will, I'll talk to you later Ike."

"Kay, bye Kyle, tell Stan and everyone I said hello if they still remember me."

"Will do," I say before snapping the phone shut putting the phone back in my suit jacket pocket. I sit on the couch for a moment before I decide to see if Stan's ready to talk about the details of living together.

Walking toward the door I had seen him and Bebe emerge from earlier I pause before I was about to knock. It's a soft noise, but I'm sure of what it is. Stan's crying. I lower my hand staring at the door wondering what I should do. Deciding its best to not disturb him I make my way back into the living and dining room. Seeing that my forgotten lunch is still on the table I finish it up and when Stan still hasn't come out of the room I go back to the photo albums and look through all eleven of them by myself. Trying to imagine some of their situations without Stan's commentary.

As I'm looking at the last album, I hear keys jingle in the door and watch as Bebe comes back into the apartment carrying a folder that has a picture of cakes on it.

"Hey Kyle!" She says cheerfully to me.

"Hey," I respond standing from the couch, a little taken aback by the greeting.

"Where's Stan?" She asks looking around her eyes falling on his deserted lunch.

"In the bedroom," I say shifting my feet. "I think he's…upset. He's been in there for awhile"

Bebe's smile instantly falls and she nods to me looking at the door, "okay, thanks for telling me," she says and heads for the bedroom. She knocks and I watch as she tells Stan that it's her before entering the room and closing the door behind her.

After standing alone awkwardly I pull off the suit jacket I still have yet to take off and drape it over the arm of the couch. I sit back down and wait. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I've looked through the albums and I can't find it in myself to turn on the television, that'd be getting too cozy and I don't want to get cozy in Stan and Bebe's apartment.

Instead I let my thoughts linger back to the agreement. I won't be technically dropping out of Stanford but I'm leaving for a whole semester. It probably won't fly by my mother well, but this was my decision and I'm going through with it. Looking at the black Armani coat I tentatively take out the letter Kenny had written me. I had shoved it in there before signing the contract with Stan. Fingering through the pages I sigh as I lean further back into the comfortable tan couch.

"How am I going to take care of Stan?" I whisper quietly to the letter. Take care of a guy I don't know, a guy whose grief I don't understand. Ike's right, I'm somewhat down about Kenny's passing but I don't have it in me to grieve the way Stan might. And with knowing so little about him or his and Kenny's relationship I can't fathom how my presence is going help him in any way. If anything I feel like I'll be a burden. Should I get a job while I'm back in South Park? If so where? What are we going to do with each other for four and half months?

Before my mind wanders any further Bebe comes out of the bedroom without Stan at her side. She gives me a tight smile as she takes the spot next to me.

"He…doesn't feel like coming out. He wants to be left alone for awhile."

I nod understandingly, but I note that Bebe looks disappointed by Stan's request. I imagine she'd want to be there for her fiancée and instead of being welcomed by Stan he's pushed her away choosing to grieve alone. Kenny did say they weren't right together…maybe he was on to something.

"So then," she starts pushing away her disappointment. "Stan told me a few days ago that you were in California at Stanford?"

"Yeah…it's my second year."

"Do you like it?"

"It has its ups and downs, what about you and Stan? What are you both doing?"

"Oh we both work and go to the community college they built a few years back. Right now I'm interning as a nurse's assistant and Stan's 2nd chef at a restaurant 20 minutes from town."

"A chef?" I ask surprised.

Bebe nods, "he's part of the culinary arts department at the college, he's working on being the head chef."

Stan a chef? It fits him for some reason, I can't recall a time when we were younger that we ever really talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up but…chef. I smile inwardly visualizing him slaving over a stove creating delectable masterpieces.

"Is there anything you wanted to do while you stayed here Kyle, since you're going back to California tomorrow?" Bebe asks interrupting my thoughts.

"No that's fine. I figure anything I want to see or do I'll just do it when I move…-"

Oops. Shit. I didn't even tell Wendy of my moving back here, there's no way I should be the one to tell Bebe. Not with her wedding in two months, that should be Stan's concern.

"…when I move closer, to South Park."

"Or you're thinking of leaving Stanford?" Bebe questions.

"Oh, uh, no I just meant in the future after school, I've…often thought of returning to Colorado. Denver maybe…" I lie.

"That'd be nice, and then you'd be around all your old friends again." She smiles at me warmly.

"Uh huh, it'd be…nice all right."

"Did you want to watch a movie if you don't want to go anywhere? I bought a few awhile back and I've never gotten around to watching them. That and Stan and I don't exactly have the same tastes in movies."

"A movie would be great," I tell her sighing in relief. Thank God she changed the subject. "What have you got?"

She shows me her titles, they're mostly chick flicks but I've never minded watching them before and one doesn't look half bad. Bebe pops in 'Jake Pucker Must Die' and we sit back in silence as the DVD plays. For the first time all day I start to relax, Bebe is nice. She's really isn't that different from how I remember her, except thankfully, I haven't caught her staring at my ass once.

Once the movie's over and we've laughed and talked about it – I actually liked it – we decide we might as well watch another chick flick since we're in the mood. Before it plays she hops up to go check on Stan. When she comes back out her face is grim and she says nothing to me but to give me the fakest smile I've ever seen. She pulls out the rest of lunch, throwing away Stan's old one and we eat the remaining sandwiches and potato salad leaving enough for Stan if he chooses to come out and join us. He never does, and when the movie is over we call it a night. It's still early but I'm tired. I had a long drive getting here and I have a long drive getting back.

After helping her move the coffee table and adjusting the other furniture we pull out the sleeper sofa and Bebe directs me to where the bathroom towels are and advises me to use anything I want or need that's in there.

"I'll say bye now then," Bebe says standing and I stand with her as she hugs me gently. "Thanks for coming Kyle."

I look at her a little confused which she picks up on it, "I have classes early in the morning and then I have work right after so you won't even see me tomorrow. You'll have to be sure to come and visit again soon…and not because of a funeral," she adds as an afterthought.

"I will," I tell her, biting my tongue before I give anything away. Little does she know how soon she'll see me… "Can you tell Stan goodnight for me?" I ask her and she nods before retreating into the bedroom.

Sighing I grab the bag that I had brought with me and head into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. Not caring about placing the black suit carefully into its garment bag I opt to stuff it in the duffel I have with the rest of my things.

The sofa bed really is comfortable and it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep, resting my head between two pillows Bebe had given me. The second I close my eyes I feel like I'm opening them again when I hear someone calling out my name softly.

"Kyle…Kyle?"

"Mm," is my response as I roll over tiredly to glance behind me. Stan is standing in his pajama's looking at me. He looks like shit. He's eyes are a little sunken and the fierce blue's I had seen yesterday at the lawyers office look like a muddled gray and they're sitting in a pool of bloodshot whites. His hair and clothes are a little rumpled, probably from sleep yet he looks awake.

"Wh am tmmm," I yawn out, knowing even as I said that, that I didn't make much sense.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning right?" He asks me quietly, and I murmur a response, one he takes as a yes. "Kyle?" He asks me again and I try harder to wake my brain up. I focus more intently on him, ignoring the DVD player's clock that's flashing some ungodly hour of 3:07 a.m.

"Yeah Stan?" I manage out, my morning voice scratching.

"Do you really want to do this?" He asks lowering his face to the ground.

"…do what?" I'm confused; it's too early to be using one's brain like this.

"The agreement, the one Kenny wrote up."

"Hn?" I attempt to sit up and decide against it, my body isn't having it. I'm not a morning person by nature, which is why I've always scheduled my classes at Stanford to be afternoon and night classes.

"About us living together for awhile, do you really want to do that?"

"Well…"I start rubbing my eyes. "It's not in my first choice of things to do this semester but… Kenny asked me and I…want to do this for him."

Stan looks up from the floor to meet my eyes in the semi-darkness. Once again his staring is starting to unnerve me, even in my current half asleep state. Finally he nods and steps away heading back toward the bedroom.

"Goodnight Kyle, sorry I woke you up," he says quietly before he enters his room and disappears behind it.

I look at the short empty hallway he had just walked through, "what the hell was that?" I mutter to myself before turning back on my other side and promptly falling back asleep.

When I wake up again its to the soft sounds of the kitchen and the unbelievably amazing smell coming from it. The only light in the living, dining and kitchen area are coming from the windows. The clock on the player blinks at an acceptable hour to get up and I push back the comforter I had been using to stand up. I stretch and yawn slightly causing the few sounds in the kitchen to cease. I watch as Stan pokes his head around the corner and looks at me.

"Morning," he says dumbly. "Did I wake you?"

"Yeah," I don't bother to lie. "But it was mostly the smell of food that did it and I need to get up anyway…has Bebe already left?" I ask and he nods ducking back into the kitchen. Before he had done so I think that I saw him scan over me entirely as he blushed faintly. Confused I shrug and head toward the bathroom looking at my image in the mirror.

Hn, nothing looks out of place. My eyes are a little glassy from sleep, my hair's rumpled as are my clothes…can't image what he's looking so embarrassed about.

As I start to wash my face before brushing my hair the early morning events cross my mind. Maybe that's what he had been so embarrassed about, waking me up for no real apparent reason. When I'm done with the bathroom I exit and see that Stan's made a plate of breakfast food for me and has set it on the table at the same place I ate yesterday.

Feeling slightly less nervous at being around him I plop down in the chair after turning it backwards. I take a long drink of milk before talking.

"Why aren't you in class?" I question wondering if he's skipped for my benefit.

"I have classes in the afternoon and I work at night. Bebe has class in the morning and works in the afternoon."

If that's their schedule I wonder how they make time to see each other at all. I eat a little of what's in front of me, coming to the conclusion that I don't know what it is, save that it smells breakfasty. After one bite my mouth stays on the fork, chewing slowly then swallowing I glance up at Stan who's eating calmly and reading what appears to be the sports section of the morning newspaper.

"What's wrong?" He asks after he's looked up and caught me staring. "Something wrong with the pancakes?"

"The what?" I question.

"Pancakes," he says as if I'm an idiot.

"These can't be pancakes," I say more to the pancakes than him. "What's the stuff in the middle?"

"It's just grated apples and cinnamon, do you not like it?" He asks defensively. "If not I can make you some eggs," he says starting to reach over to grab my plate but I instinctively pick it up and hold it out of his grasp.

"No!" I clear my throat and settle down when I realize I said that with much unneeded force. "I mean, no that's fine. This is good, really good I just… haven't had anything like this before. You made this?"

He nods slowly, sitting back down.

If Stan is only the 2nd chef where he works I can't begin to imagine the talent of the 1st or head chef.

"It's incredible," I tell him and he eyes me cautiously before looking back at his paper.

"Thanks," he says finally.

Once he's finished reading whichever article he was involved with he folds the paper and disregards it to fix his eyes on me. "We have to decide what we're going to do about this apartment thing."

I nod agreeing, "Have you told Bebe about the agreement yet?"

He scowls as he shakes his head no, "I'll tell her after you leave, no reason for you to get caught in the cross fire."

I decide not to question him on that, "I was thinking." I start after taking a few bites of the pancakes. "That once I get back to school we could look for places online and that you could be responsible for actually checking them out. I mean its more work on your part but…" I trail off as he nods knowingly. I can't very well view these places while I'm out of state. "We can talk back and forth on the phone about details." I finish.

Stan says nothing as he pushes a side dish of cut up fruit around, "Kyle have you thought about how we're going to pay for all this? I mean a new apartment, furniture, bills and stuff?"

I stop eating. I hadn't thought of that and I haven't got much money saved. Most of its being used toward my ever-growing tuition, college loans and credit bills. I know Stan's is doing the same.

"How are we going to pay it all…" I mutter. "I guess…we can call that lawyer, Mr. Zanadaci? He said to call if we have any questions."

"That's true," he stands and grabs the kitchen phone before sitting back down. "It's early but… you're leaving soon," he says looking at me and I nod to him. I continue to eat silently and watch as he punches in a number he finds on a card that's near the phone. Stan keeps his eyes on his food as someone apparently picks up the other line.

"Hi, I'd like to talk with Mr. Zanadaci please," Stan says into the phone. "Stan Marsh," he answers after a pause.

We wait a little bit in silence before Stan talks again.

"Hey Mr. Zanadaci, this is Stan…yeah, Kyle and I have a question about the agreement…how're we going to pay for everything, like the lease itself and-" He seemingly gets cut off and nods to whatever Zanadaci is telling him. "Right, I kinda figured." He pauses for a length of time, nodding. "No that was all for now, thanks," he says finally and hangs up the phone resting it on top of his paper. He gazes at me, "he said everything's covered. We're going to be living off the interest in Kenny's accounts. They had already anticipated this. We just have to find the place, contact him when we find one we like and he'll take care of the expenses. Food, bills and all that stuff is also covered. We just let him know what we need and he'll dish out."

"Really?" I ask surprised as he nods going back to his own breakfast. "Kenny thought of everything."

Stan looks back up at me at the mention of Kenny's name. "He did," he says quietly, distantly.

We quickly finish eating and I shower and change into a fresh pair of clothes, complete with my sunglasses resting on my slightly damp reddish orange hair.

"I have to get going to class soon," Stan says as we pack away the sleeper sofa and move the furniture back into place.

"That's fine, I'm meeting Wendy for a smoothie outside of town in a bit and then I should head home."

After we're done, I double check the apartment to be sure I didn't leave anything behind and Stan grabs his back pack before we head out of the apartment. I stand and wait for him to lock it up before we walk down the stairs of the complex. He follows me to my car and watches as I unlock it and load everything in, making sure I have Wendy's cell phone number as well.

I look at him and he stares back, "do you…need a ride there?" I ask hesitantly remembering I haven't seen him with a car and that Bebe must have one. It could be their only one.

"No, my car's parked in the car garage around the side of the building."

"Okay," I say nodding and open the driver door. "…give me a call if you find a place." I say.

"Same goes for you," he answers back dully.

I hesitate a moment longer watching him. Hugging as a goodbye is out of the question, but I don't know if I should… shake his hand or something. He seems to be equally uncertain on a specific goodbye gesture. Instead I present him the only thing I can give without feeling completely awkward, and even so I'm still a little uncomfortable offering.

"If you need anything…like to talk or something give me a call okay?" I say and he tenses, his eyes flashing in an anger I don't understand.

"I'll be fine," he seethes out averting his eyes.

Right then. I climb in my car and start the engine, backing up and pulling out of the parking spot. I roll down the passenger's window electronically and look at him, studying my former best friend.

I was wrong he does look different, not drastically as I do but he has changed. Maybe it's due to Kenny's death, I don't know but Stan looks worn and tired even though he's angry. And even so there's something about him that I can't place my finger on, an aura of something I didn't notice yesterday.

"I'll see you in a month Stan," I finally say.

He grunts at me, "drive safe through the mountains." He responds and turns on his heel to walk away from me without another word.

I pull my sunglasses over my eyes and pick up my phone to call Wendy.

"Kyle, you called!" She says to me first thing, once we've connected.

"I said I would," I respond being sure to keep my eyes on the road as I drive.

"I know, I just, well never mind. Still want to meet at the smoothie hut I told you about?"

"Yeah, where is it?"

It takes awhile but I finally find the place she describes to me over the cell phone. Pulling into the small parking lot I see that it's nothing special, but that it's still pleasant. I at once spy Wendy sitting at an outside table and I walk over to her with a smile.

"Hey!" She says to me and stands to give me a brief hug.

"Hey Wendy!" I respond, "So how do you know about this place?" I question her once we've stood in line to order our smoothies, and have sat back down.

"Some of the girls had told me about it at the reception yesterday."

I nod taking a sip of my order. It isn't half bad.

"How was staying with Stan and Bebe?" She asks me

"Okay. Though… Stan and I didn't get much time to talk. Last night he sorta had, I don't know, a bit of a breakdown and holed himself in his room. Bebe and I talked a bit and watched some movies before going to sleep. But Stan and I did talk some before Bebe came back; he told me about Kenny a little."

Wendy nods quietly.

"What do you remember about him?" I ask curiously.

"My opinion of him hasn't changed much from elementary school. He grew up a little past the sex jokes in middle school, but to me he was still a foul mouthed boy who needed to have his mouth washed out with soap daily."

I laugh at this and so does Wendy. "But," she begins as an after thought. "My last few weeks here, the last few weeks of middle school I was starting to notice a big change. Of course everyone knew how close he and Stan became, especially in the start of 6th grade, and I feel like maybe their friendship helped…calm him down a little. Mature him, probably because he had a new burden of supporting Stan since you had left. Stan needed someone and Kenny was really his only option. Not that they felt they were stuck together," she rushes when she sees my frown. "It's just you leaving was a good and bad thing. Bad for Stan at the time, but good for Kenny, it forced him to grow up. He became really…perceptive.

I remember that on my last day here, at my goodbye party that I had found myself alone with him in the kitchen, and us alone rarely happened since he wasn't my favorite person. He told me that once I left Bebe would get her chance at Stan. I shrugged it off, and was really annoyed with him. Stan and I never officially broke up and though it seemed pointless, I figured we'd have a long distance type thing." Wendy stops to laugh and take a few sips of her smoothie. "A long distance relationship between 12 yr olds! It was doomed from the start. The point is I didn't believe Kenny because I didn't think Bebe would ever do something like that to me, we were friends and she didn't tell me she ever had an interest in Stan. And now look! They're engaged to be married! I don't know how he knew that and I didn't, but he did."

"Do you miss him?"

"Miss him? I guess, in an I-can't-believe-someone-I've-known-all-my-life-is-dead sort of way. But not the way Stan does or any of the guys they were friends with do. Am I sad that he died? In a way, no one deserves to die this young. Do you miss him?" She counters back to me.

"Yeah, but more for what we could have had as friends than the fact that he's actually gone."

Wendy nods understandingly, "what do you think about Stan and Bebe being a couple?" I switch the conversation back to them. Not really wanting to talk about Kenny.

She shrugs and stares at her smoothie, swirling the light pink mixture with her straw absentmindedly. "It really isn't my place to say."

"Of course it is, you're friends with the both of them, even if you're not that close."

"I suppose," she stops stirring her drink to fix her eyes on me. "They're just not right together you know?" She shakes her head again and looks off. "They don't compliment each other in any way. Call me an old fashioned romantic but instead of being night and day, they're day and twilight. They're not peanut butter and jelly they're peanut butter and bananas, so they kind of fit together, but not in completion. And can't you already tell Kyle?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I know you've only been around them one day, but we both heard their argument, even though we've been pretending we haven't. Bebe scheduled an appointment knowing it was the same day as Kenny's funeral and even Stan's said he's always put Kenny before her. Does that sound like a solid relationship to you?"

"Every couple fights," I tell her.

"That isn't the sort of thing they should be fighting about. I don't know why you're defending Bebe's actions, or even Stan's. Yes it was wrong of Bebe to make that appointment, but how much must Bebe be hurting to know she's only ever been second best in her guy's life?"

Wendy pauses and I watch her face redden, "I'm sorry, I just got carried away. But they could both do better and be happier with other people."

"Have you ever told Bebe how you felt about it?"

"That definitely isn't my place. We've drifted too far for me to question such things…I heard Kenny knew they weren't right together. But not even he stepped in, and if he didn't… then no one else deserves too. Maybe he sees something in their relationship no one else sees."

"Wait a minute; no one thinks they should be together?" I ask slightly appalled.

"That's not what I meant, it's just a few of the girls I had talked with at the reception and the few I've stayed in contact with over the years. Chef doesn't like it either…but for the most part, they seem happy together."

I sip my drink thoughtfully at what Wendy's saying. Of course she's wrong, I know Kenny didn't agree with Bebe and Stan getting married, but he had told me in his letter to me. And that letter was private, and only meant for me to see. I don't even want Stan to read it. It made me a little happy that Kenny had confided something in me he clearly hadn't told anyone else. That he trusts me with a secret even though he didn't know who I would become…

Sipping my drink my eyes fall on my phone that I had laid down on the table, "oh crap Wendy I need to get going. I don't want to go through the mountains at night and it'll take hours to drive through them."

She smiles, "that's okay. We should keep in contact Kyle to compare grades and old town gossip?"

I grin before smirking, "I'd like that."

We stand and gather our drinks, walking to the parking lot together.

"I'm glad there isn't any animosity between us," she says quietly once we've reached her car.

"Why would there be animosity?" I ask confused.

"Because of how I treated you on occasion over Stan."

"Please, Wendy I didn't treat you any better. I remember I used to be so jealous that Stan spent so much time mooning over you."

"Really?" She asks with a lopsided smile as I nod.

"But we were 8 and 9, it'd be childish to keep that kind of immature hostility."

"It would," she smiles at me and gives me one last hug. "Take care Kyle."

"You too Wendy," I respond and watch her open her car door. I watch her drive off, and wave just before she turns out of sight.

As I head to my own car I realize my smoothie is getting low and head back toward the line. Might as well get another one for the road home.

**-FG**

**AN:** I've always envisioned that Stan would make a great chef and I base this on absolutely nothing. And because it's my story and I can do whatever I want, I plan to explore that part. :D

Again future chapters will be pumped out slower, I haven't even written the entire 11th chapter yet and it's getting pretty damn long.


	11. Kenny II

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kenny**

"_All right, so the wills done and you have the video will right?" I asked as I rummaged through my bag to find an apple I tossed in earlier. I was once again at Mr. Zanadaci's office and had been for awhile. His secretary had been reading silently in the waiting room, her usual duties were long done for the night, so I'm not sure why she's still here._

"_Mh-hm," he said as he straightened the papers. _

"_What's left then, is that it?" I asked biting into the hard slightly warm apple._

"_Just to sign it, when you do we'll call in Jessica, my secretary."_

"_Why?" I continued mid-chew._

"_Please close your mouth Kenny," Mr. Z said before he went on. "By law it's required that there are two witnesses during the signing of the will. I'll be one of course and she will be the other."_

"_Okay, and then what?"_

"_And then we're done. I'll file your papers away and in the event of your…-" he trailed off looking at me._

"_In the event of my death, yeah?" I continued for him._

"…_your next of kin, including Stan and Kyle, will be contacted with instructions to report to my office when time becomes available for them."_

_My next of kin?_

"_Mr. Zanadaci, that whole next of kin thing… that means my parents right?"_

"_Unless all this time you've been married and haven't told me then yes, it's your parents."_

_I shake my head pushing my blonde hair out of my eyes once I've stopped. "My parents don't even know I've made a will. They don't know how much money I've saved or that I'm dying soon… I sort of want to keep it that way, just in case they try to contest the will when I've died. I wouldn't put it past them," I add thoughtfully. "But they're all idiots, poor idiots at that so they shouldn't be able too, but the moment I die I want Stan and Kyle to be the ones contacted to come here to your office, not them… is there a-"_

"_Before you can ask, yes, there are a few ways to change your next of kin. None, which I believe you, would want to engage in. They involve acts such as emancipation, and marriage."_

_I think a moment before shaking my head, "there's no time for either emancipation," I began muttering to myself_

_He raised a light gray eyebrow at me, "I've been meaning to ask you this. Clearly you don't get along with your family, so much that you've left them nothing in your vast amount of assets, and yet you've told me of their financial status. They could use the money and yet you're leaving them nothing."_

_I leaned back further into the chair, biting the remains of the apple as I studied the carpet. "It's nothing against them…" I started but then stopped myself hearing Stan's laugh at my false statement. "Well okay, it IS against them." I shrugged my shoulders. "It's childish to say, but I hate them. There's a lot of bad blood between them and me. Not any of that family love. There used to be when I was little but, it faded. I mean, besides a bit of verbal abuse they haven't laid a hand on me, I should probably count myself lucky in that sense. But you know, I was still a kid when they started to neglect me a lot so in retaliation I told myself if they didn't care about me that I wouldn't care about them. I got two jobs, a third one on the side and devoted my entire being into those jobs. Well…the jobs, Stan and school. I decided I didn't need to care about anything else…What'd you mean by marriage?" I asked the last part suddenly, tossing the apple core into a garbage can._

_Mr. Z was eyeing me and I couldn't read his expression, but I could swear I might have seen a hint of empathy. He didn't press me on the people I decided to leave everything too further like I thought he would have._

"_By marriage, I mean marriage. If you married Stan he'd be your next in kin. And since the state of Colorado has allowed gay marri-"_

_I cut him off laughing, "whoa, okay that's out. We're not getting married. I love him, but not like that." I stopped when I was starting to see my situation. "What's an alternative to emancipation and marriage?"_

"_In your case, nothing."_

_I frowned, "no, there has to be another way…who would contact my parents anyway?"_

"_I would."_

_I felt my face scrunch up in confusion before I smiled, "then that's perfect, just ignore that whole kin thing and only call Stan and Kyle."_

"_Kenny that's against the law."_

"_Who's going to know?"_

"_Everyone would eventually. When – I mean _if_ – Kyle and Stan move in together people will know about your will and its conditions, including your parents. If they're sensible people they'll realize they were not contacted for the reading and will then have every right to contest it as that would be their glitch; that I illegally did not contact them, which could lead to many problems Kenny. I don't need corruption on my name."_

"_Oh." I state quietly._

_There is of course something far more basic I could do."_

"_And what's that?" I asked dejectedly._

_He smiled at me, "I could call them in after I've called in Stan and Kyle, and deal with them separately without your friends ever having to get involved with any sort of legality issues over your will."_

"_Do they have to know of my will at all?"_

"_Yes, again, they'd find out eventually."_

_I sighed, "Jesus Christ my dads going to have a fucking tantrum, I hope you're prepared for that."_

"_I'm sure I've seen worse, and language Kenny."_

"_Sorry," I mused. "Well okay, bring them in if you have to, but it'll be your fault if they dig up my grave and throw my carcass in a river out of spite."_

_Mr. Z didn't look amused. "Are you ready to sign? Are there any last questions you have of me?"_

_I slide further in my chair and rack my brain for anything I might have missed. Stan and Kyle will get everything if they sign and fulfill my agreement… if not the money goes wherever. Mr. Z'll check up on Stan and Kyle to make sure they don't cop out…The laws behind it so my parents can't touch a thing, everything's legal… I finally shake my head._

"_Oh wait!" I say suddenly remembering something. I start digging back through my bag and pull out two last envelopes. Smirking I hand it to my lawyer and he eyes these two suspiciously._

"_What's this?" He asks._

"_The one without a name on it is for you, so you can get your paycheck and stuff," I tell him warmly. "Thanks for helping me out Mr. Z, with everything. The will, promising to check up on Stan and Kyle, explaining things to me and not trying to cheat me, and working around my work hours to meet here with me at 10 at night! I really appreciate it."_

"_Kenny I-" he stops to shake his head, handing the blank envelope back to me. "I can't take your money."_

_I frown at him, "why not? It's just a paycheck, I promise I didn't slip any extra money in. I got the total fee from your receptionist awhile back and-"_

_He held up a hand to stop me and forced the envelope back in his hand as I eyed him confused._

"_What can I say Kenny?" He smiled at me, "I'm a little moved at what you've done with yourself. Leaving all this to your friends, especially Kyle… and the way you talk, as if you'll die very soon…all these plans you have, the agreement to get your two friends to meet once more? Even though you won't be around to see that happen? Let's just say your situation has touched me, confused me, but touched me all the same. It's been an equal pleasure working with you as well. So I really can't take your money."_

_I beamed at him and slowly took the envelope back, reminding myself to slip it to his receptionist before I left._

"_Now then," he said eyeing the other envelope that had Stan and Kyle's name on it. "What is this? Not some other…agreement you have for you friends?"_

_I laughed and sat up, "nope. Just one last small thing I want you to do for me if that's okay?" He nodded slowly. "Can you give this to them after the 4 ½ months are over?"_

"_That's all?"_

"_Yup," I said feeling the sly smile stretch even further._

"_Well alright then…any more questions?"_

_I shake my head._

"_Wonderful, but I do have a few more for you."_

"_Sure," I say curiously._

"_How are Kyle and Stan paying for this apartment? And its furnishings and just living expenses in general? Aren't you the one who said they were both in college debt? And since Kyle will no longer be in school his grace period for his loans may end while he's fulfilling this agreement of yours."_

"_Oh."_

"_Had you not thought of any of that? It's quite difficult to put one's life on hold for four months."_

"_Can you arrange for them to live off the interest in my bank account then? It's enough I think?"_

_He sighs smiling and writes something down on a pad of paper that had been lying unused until now. I smile at him, "do you mind taking care of any other little things that I may have forgotten?"_

"_Of course not."_

_Without warning I yawn tiredly and rub my eyes as they start to tear slightly because of it. After taking his notes Mr. Z looks up at me with a smile._

"_It is rather late; shall we have you sign the papers so we can all head home?"_

_I nod, coming to the conclusion that if there is something I've forgotten I feel confident in knowing that Mr. Zanadaci will take care of it the best way he can._

_He stands and leaves his office as I stay put and stare at the completed will._

_I had already showed a signed 2nd rough draft to Stan awhile ago and he had taken it like how I thought he would. Especially when I told him the reason why I had made the will in the first place. I can't help but smile sadly when I remember hearing the sound of his voice when I told him I knew I was dying, he had been so angry…_

_I snort remembering he had then asked me to be his best man at his wedding. There had been so many problems with his request. I felt bad saying no, but I can't support a wedding to a girl I don't think deserves him, and there's the fact that I won't even be around to see Stan as a married guy…then I brought up Kyle again. _

_I had been mentioning him so often the last few weeks, I couldn't get him out of my mind, particularly since the visit to California to see him after showing Stan the 2nd draft will. My almost partially consumed thoughts of him had driven me to find him. Finding Ike hadn't been hard, talking to him and trying to assure him that I wasn't some random stalker and that I was his older brother's old friend had been. Ike hadn't been willing to give me any personal information on his brother to a complete stranger he met over the internet, especially Myspace._

_But I worked on him, I wasn't surprised he didn't remember me. He was only 3 or 4 the last time he probably saw me and we rarely crossed paths as kids. After telling him the countless things I remember Kyle, Stan, Cartman and I did when we were younger – hoping Kyle had told him of our adventures - he finally relented and believed I was who I said I was. After that finding Kyle had been so simple it was almost laughable that I hadn't thought to try and find him sooner._

_I turn my head when Mr. Zanadaci walks back in with his secretary/receptionist Jessica. He slides the will over to me and I scrawl my name, and then watch as they both sign theirs on the lines designated for the two witnesses._

"_Good," Mr. Z announced clapping his hands together. "I'll just file this away…" he said as he scooped up the paperwork plopped it in a folder and then locked it away in one of his many drawers. "Jessica could you start turning off the lights?" He asked looking at her and she nodded, giving me a small smile._

_I'm not sure just how much she knows about me, we don't ever talk save her telling me that Zanadaci is always expecting me when I walk into the office._

_Standing I stretch slightly and fight another yawn, I watch disinterestedly as Zanadaci starts to turn off his own computer._

_Adjusting the strap of my messenger bag I eye him, "hey Mr. Zanadaci?" I ask quietly and he looks at me surprised._

_I rarely call him by his full last name, only when I'm at my most serious. And right now I'm tired and feeling a little down for a reason I can guess but don't quite yet want to admit at the moment._

"_Yes Kenny?"_

"_Do you… that is, would you like to meet Stan? I mean, obviously you will when he comes in for the reading of the will but maybe before, while I'm still around?"_

"…" _He looks at his computer screen for a second, probably just to not look at me. "When?"_

"_Tomorrow morning, maybe a breakfast?" I can feel my eyes twinkling, "I'll treat you even, just don't tell Stan. He has to keep thinking I don't have any money."_

"_Tomorrow morning?"_

_I nodded, "it's sudden and I understand if you already have plans I just…"_

…_feel like tomorrow is my last day, is what I don't add._

_I rub the back of my hair almost laughing, "you probably don't normally do this huh? Have breakfast with your clients and the people they leave things to?"_

"_It's common enough," he answers me. "Breakfast tomorrow is fine."_

"_Really?"_

_Mr. Z laughs as he starts to gesture me out of his office, turning off the light, closing the door and locking it behind us as he follows me. "Really."_

"_Thanks," I beam at him. "I think you'll really like Stan."_

"_I'm sure I will."_

"_How's 9 at that breakfast place near the elementary school for you?"_

"_Sounds fine."_

_We meet Jessica in the foyer of the waiting room and leave the building together. After walking as a group toward the parking lot I make a turn on a street to head to the bus stop. I hadn't brought my car again today simply because I wanted the time on the bus to think and with the way I had zoned out on the bus on the way here it was a good thing I hadn't driven._

"_Where are you going Kenny?" Mr. Z called out to me and I turned back to see Jessica stepping into her own car, and taking off after waving._

"_The bus stop."_

"_You don't have a car?"_

"_I do, I just didn't drive it today."_

"_It's a bit late to be taking a bus home don't you think?"_

_I shrugged. Yeah you do get the occasional creepy group at this time around, but I dressed too poor to be worth their attentions._

"_Why don't I just drive you home?"_

"_That's okay Mr. Z, I don't mind taking the bus home."_

"_Kenny I'd feel better if you would let me drive you home. It's late and I don't trust public transportation."_

_Can't argue with free rides, so I grin and accept it. His car is the sort you expect a lawyer to drive, a good size, fancy, yet surprisingly comfortable. As usual though, it's freezing outside and before I can ask Zanadaci if he would turn on the heat I already felt the warm arm blowing gently on my chest area. After awhile I feel my ass start to heat up and I look over at him surprised as he pulls out onto the street after I direct him in which direction to go._

"_Seat warmers," he says with a smile._

"_Nice," I tell him back leaning into the cushiony seat._

"_I've been wondering," he suddenly talks after we've been riding in comfortable silence for awhile._

"'_Bout what?" I ask him looking out my window, taking in some last looks at this certain area of South Park. I'll never see them again after tonight._

"_About Kyle."_

"_Kyle?" I question curiously deciding South Park isn't that interesting, even if it's the last time I'll see this part. I turn and focus my attention on my lawyer. _

"_Yes, you've never told me any details of this trip to California and I am quite curious to know how it went, besides his initial reaction of not recognizing you. I'm not even sure when you went."_

"_Oh, well…once I had shown Stan the will - which by the way I've shown Stan the 2nd draft of the will - I decided I wanted to visit Kyle. Stan doesn't know I went or anything and it was pretty last minute, and of course I didn't want him to realize I had gone so I had to be pretty quick about it. Flying there one day, seeing Kyle and then flying back the same day. So, that's what I did. I booked an early morning flight, spent some time asking around about him, finding out his schedule, and which route he took to get to his classes…"_

_I can't help but to stop and laugh. Everything had been so perfectly calculated I had shocked even myself. The biggest hurdle was making sure Stan never missed me; luckily he was swamped with wedding plans, work and school. So it hadn't been too hard. I just had to take that day off at all my jobs._

_That morning I had taken my car to the airport to catch my flight. The flight from Denver to the Stanford area isn't that long and once arriving I grabbed a taxi and headed for the school, stopping only to eat._

_Since Ike had told me he went to Stanford it had been easy to look up his name in the student directory, find his number and the dorm he lived in. It was a single co-ed dorm and he lived on the 4th floor._

_I wasn't sure how well known Kyle was with so many people on one single campus and I doubted I could just stop and ask random strangers about him, so I had only asked people the location of his dorm building._

_Making my way there I had gotten in easily enough, even though the outside doors were locked. I just slipped in with another student, claiming I had left my key in my room. I had taken the stairs and walked carefully into the fourth floor. I hadn't asked Ike for a photograph of what the 19 yr old Kyle looked like, I hadn't thought to. But when I _had_ I had cursed inwardly thinking I should have. It could have been the least Ike could have done for me considering I had wired the kid 1000 bucks to shut his trap and make sure he didn't tell Kyle about me._

_I tensed when the first guy had walked past me. I expected he might ask me who I was and what I was doing on his floor, but he merely looked at me and kept going. I had let out a sigh of relief then rolled my eyes at myself. Of course no ones going to question people walking around the halls that looked like they belonged in the school. When the next guy had walked past me I asked about Kyle. The guy must have been a friend of Kyle's because he looked at me curiously up and down._

"_Kyle's still in class," he said to me._

_I nodded, knowing my next two questions would be slightly suspicious no matter who I was or what I looked like._

"_When and where is his next class?"_

_I was floored when he didn't even bat an eye and just told me. I don't know if that's normal or not but I glanced at the watch I was wearing, thanked him and started to leave, when he called out to me._

"_Hey if you don't run into him do you want me to tell him something for you?"_

_I looked over my shoulder and shook his head, "no, but thanks."_

"_Sure…oh, and if you go through the quad you'll probably bump right into him."_

_Something in the way he had said that made me stop to turn and look at him fully, but he only smiled and disappeared through a dorm room. I glanced at the name plate over his door, Frey Z. He was the RA._

_I stopped from telling my story about going to California to ponder for a second. Mr. Zanadaci is still driving calmly and he seems to be listening to every word I say with increasing interest. I'm not sure what made me stop my story here at remembering that resident advisor Frey…_

"_Anyway," I say picking back up where I left off._

_I had taken the RA's advice and had gone through the quad, walking quickly since Kyle probably just got out of his last class and was probably headed toward the next one. I didn't want to miss him. My eyes were scanning over the crowd of people, which made me feel like an idiot since I really didn't know what I was looking for. I knew who, but I didn't know what he looked like, but then…I had seen him._

_He had a messenger bag, sort of like mine strapped over his chest but he was also holding a stack of three books, a few folders and what looked to be loose papers, and he was walking fast._

_I had sped up trying to get a closer look. It was the hair, that's what had caught my eye. It wasn't _nearly _as red as it was when we were kids. It was a darker shade, kind of red orange when the sun rays hit them. He was clearly decked head to toe in designer labels and I could see the shiny metal logo on his sunglasses of a top name brand resting on his hair. It wasn't until I got closer that I saw the two cartridge piercings and the distracted green eyes. Seeing their intensity I froze from following him. _

_This was the first time I was seeing Kyle Broflovski in 10 years, and he looked incredible. He had always been a bit pale as a kid, probably because of the red hair, so his skin was always more fair than mine, Cartman or Stan's. Now it was a healthy bronze, and I didn't have to look at the people around me to know he was getting some appreciative glances. _

_He looked rushed, like if anything stopped him he'd be extremely flustered._

_I had grinned and took up chase once more. There were tons of people lounging around. Some were sitting in the grass reading, others were talking with friends, some girls were playing Frisbee on one side and a couple of people were attempting and failing to do homework. But my sole focus had been on the red head only a few feet away from me. The angle I was coming at was perfect, he'd never know what hit him…until I did._

_I purposely ran right into him, slamming into his shoulder causing his armload to fall to the ground nearly taking us with it. But I caught myself…and him. He looked jolted out of whatever world he had been in and I had found it amusing._

"_Shit, sorry dude," he muttered to me as he immediately bent down to retrieve his things. I bent down beside him and helped pick up the few things that were near me. Crouched down I waited until he had gathered all his stuff before handing the book and papers in my hand to him._

_He looked up at me, shifting his head in a jerking motion to get his hair out of his eyes. Our eyes met and I smiled and looked into them. In my mind I could only think to call his eyes pretty because they were. Kinda like sparkling emeralds, but they weren't sparkling from recognition. He had no idea who I was. To him I was just some guy he thought he ran into. He smiled apologetically at me and we stood at the same time both our hands still on his textbook._

"_It's not a problem," I had told him letting go of the book. _

_My smile had widened as I grinned at him. Even in that short exchange I could tell from his voice and his eyes, Kyle hadn't changed a bit, at least internally. He'd be perfect to watch over Stan for me, and maybe… _

_I looked around at all the students in the quad, most were ignoring us but a handful were staring. Though it was Kyle their eyes lingered on, not me. Girls and guys alike._

…_maybe he could do more for Stan. Of course, I don't tell Zanadaci that._

"_Sorry again," Kyle had said to me turning and heading back in the direction of his class. He appeared to be in even more of a rush. _

_I had thought I had seen his body hesitate in a step but he was merely shifting his legs slightly before taking off._

_I stop talking when I realize that Mr. Z and I are at my house and that we've been parked in front of it for awhile. It looked like he still had been listening to me, but he was looking at the house almost distastefully._

_I open the car door, "thanks for the ride Mr. Z, I appreciate it."_

"_You are of course welcome. I'll see you and Stan tomorrow then Kenny?"_

"_Yeah," I tell him smiling._

"_Your friend Kyle sounds…well, perhaps it is right for you to leave half your life to him."_

_I eyed my lawyer surprised. He's never said anything like this, he's always been so adamant that I add more people to my will and not add Kyle at all._

"_It is," I say thoughtfully. "Night Mr. Z, see you tomorrow!" I say sounding more cheerful than I really feel._

_When I wake up the next morning the first thing I do is call Stan. It's 8:15 in the morning and we have to meet Mr. Z for breakfast and Stan hasn't been told yet._

"_Hey Kenny," he says into the phone normally. "What's up?"_

"_Have you already eaten?" I ask him, getting to the point._

"_No, why?"_

"_Want to have breakfast at that place near the elementary school at 9 with my lawyer?"_

"_With your… what?"_

"_With my lawyer," I pressed. _

"_Why?" He asked stubbornly and I sighed. Stan really didn't want to be involved with anything that had anything to do with my will, because that would mean admitting my fate and he's yet to do that._

_It makes me sad, because today he's going to get a rude awakening. But I shrug it off, that's later on today and it's still early._

"_Come on you'll like him!" I say energetically._

"…_fine," he grumbles into the phone. "Do you want me to pick you up or something?"_

"_Nah, I'll take my car since we only have 45 minutes to get there. See you then!" I say and hang up the phone._

_I get ready fairly quickly and brush by my parents and my brother who don't bother to say a word in my direction. At the front door I stop and turn to face all three of them. They're watching one of the few free television channels we get, completely ignoring me._

_Part of me feels like I should say something to them. Something nice, try to rekindle any love they have for me that might still be there._

"_I'm going," I say to them._

_My dad looks over at me before returning to the TV set, "then go. No need to proclaim it to the world."_

_I frown and turn to my mom, "bye mom." I say._

"_Kenny would ya just go already? Whadda want, did ya want sometin, because whatever it is ya know you aint getting it so don' even bother askin," she says narrowing her eyes at me._

_I snort and turn on my heel. Fuckers, I guess you can't rekindle a love that's been dead for 6 years._

_Regardless that last night when Mr. Zanadaci had been driving me when I looked over the roads of downtown South Park trying to take it all in, I ignore the surroundings of my neighborhood. It's nothing worth remembering and I hope I do forget it._

_Once I pull into the little mom and pop breakfast place I see that both Stan and Mr. Z's cars are already here. Hopping out of my barely legal to drive car I head inside and see that they're already seated… at separate tables. I laugh and tell the hostess the problem and she smiles and directs me to Stan's table._

"_Hey we're going to move over to that table over there," I point to where Mr. Zanadaci is sitting, his head buried in a menu already._

"_Dude, no way. I couldn't even believe it, but that's my fucking boss!" He hisses at me his voice lowered._

"_What are you talking about?" I ask him confused. "That's my lawyer Mr. Zanadaci."_

"_Kenny," he says almost annoyed. "I know what my own boss looks like and I know that's Mr. Zanadaci so that can't be your lawyer if he's my boss."_

_Confused I still pull him up and drag him over to the table Mr. Z is at. Stan is muttering swears to me, cursing my name but I ignore him as we approach Mr. Z. Feeling our presence he looks up and smiles. Stan gasps._

"_Hi Mr. Zanadaci, this is Stan Marsh." I tell him, shoving my friend into a seat and taking anther one._

"_Nice to meet you Mr. Marsh," he smiles warmly to Stan. "Good morning Kenny," he adds to me and I smile and say it back, frowning at Stan when I notice he's still gaping at Zanadaci._

"_What's your problem?" I ask him._

_He ignores me as he studies Mr. Z closely. "Just Stan," he manages to mutter out and Mr. Z only nods with the smile still in place, but I can tell he's amused at the way Stan's looking at him. "You're…Mr. Zanadaci…Kenny's lawyer?"_

"_I am," he nods._

_Stan takes this in, "Mr. Achilleus Zanadaci?"_

"_Ah," Mr. Zanadaci says before laughing gently. "That's why you've been eyeing me with the utmost caution. "No, I'm Apollo Zanadaci, Achilleus is my little brother. People often confuse us for twins though."_

"_Oh," Stan sighs and he instantly relaxes. "That makes more sense."_

_I look to Mr. Z skeptically then focus back on Stan, "your moody bastard boss is Mr. Z's little brother?" I found that difficult to believe as Mr. Z is so nice and patient._

"_Achilleus is a bit difficult," Zanadaci says with a smile. "But he does mean well, even if most of the time it doesn't seem like it."_

_Stan snorted, but didn't say anything to that. I have personally never met his boss, the other Mr. Zanadaci, but Stan talks about him enough and it's always in a pretty low light._

_A waiter soon comes and grabs our order. Stan's been eyeing the menu critically, I can tell nothing sounds tempting to him. He'd probably have preferred skipping this soon to be mediocre breakfast and just cooking for all of us instead. But he eventually orders a simple omelet._

"_Nobody can fuck up an omelet," he mutters to me as he hands his menu to the waiter._

"_I wouldn't test them," I mutter back after I order a huge breakfast._

"_How is it that you know my brother Stan?" Mr. Z asks once he's ordered his own food._

"_I work for him. I'm one of the chef's there."_

"_A chef, at your age?" Mr. Z questions looking over Stan who nods. His eyes suddenly light and he smiles. "Ah, yes, my brother has often talked of a young chef at his restaurant. He says he hasn't seen such potential in someone so young since…himself."_

_Both Stan and I laugh at that, "he's told me that…in less kind words." Stan mentions._

_When our food arrives, conversation halts as eating takes over. The rest of the breakfast is small talk between Zanadaci and Stan. For the most part I'm simply enjoying watching them interact. They seem to be getting along rather well, which is something I'm pleased to see, seeing as how they'll be working together in a sense for awhile in the very near future._

_Once Mr. Z has drained his second mug of coffee, he reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves a wallet. "Well, breakfast, while not excellent, the company has been, but I must be getting to work."_

_Stan holds up a hand, as do I to stop Zanadaci from extracting his credit card. I'm about to speak up and tell Mr. Z that I had said that I'd take care of the bill when I remember Stan is sitting right beside me._

"_I can take care of the bill, Mr. Zanadaci," Stan ends up saying instead of me._

"_Nonsense, I can most certainly afford to pay for three meals. The breakfast is on me," he stands without another word and heads toward the cashier._

_When he's gone I turn to Stan and look at him expectantly. "Well?" I ask him._

"_Well what?" He asks me._

"_Stop pouting Stan, what do you think of Mr. Z, nice guy right?"_

_Stan sighs and smiles at me, "yeah, he is." He then frowns. "I still can't believe he's related to my boss though, they're so different."_

"_From what you've told me about your boss, they are."_

_Stan's silent for a moment, "he may be a nice guy Kenny, but you know I still can't get over the fact that he's your lawyer…the one you got for the creation of your will."_

"_I know." I tell him simply, not wanting to get into it again._

_When Mr. Z comes back, Stan and I stand and we all head out of the diner together. At Mr. Z's car he smiles at Stan._

"_It was very pleasant to meet you Stan."_

"_Yeah, you too." Stan says, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. "It would have been even more pleasant under better circumstances though," he says this eyeing me and I scowl at him._

"_Yes…it would have," Zanadaci adds and when I turn to look at him, he's already staring at me._

"_You can both stop staring at me with those looks," I tell them annoyed._

"_Indeed, I do have to return to my office, I have an appointment soon."_

_I nod and do something I've done for few adults, I reach out and shake his hand with the most genuine smile I can muster. "Thanks again Mr. Z, for _everything_." _

_Without having to look at him, I know Stan is a little surprised, but Mr. Z merely shakes my hand, his smile no longer on his lips. He's looking at me closely, and ends up saying nothing except to nod._

_Once he's left I turn back to Stan. "Want to hang out?" I ask._

"_Don't you have to work?" He asks me._

_I shrug indifferently. "I don't feel much like working."_

_He gives me a strange look, probably because as far as he knows I've never skipped a day of work in my life._

"_For awhile, sure. But I have to get back home in a few hours. Bebe, Mrs. Stevens, and my mom want to go over wedding stuff, what'd you want to do?" He asks me._

_What do I want to do? I only have a few hours with Stan and after this…nothing._

"_I'm not sure…want to go to Starks Pond?" I ask._

"_The Pond?" He questions surprised._

"_Yeah, why not? We haven't gone in a long time, and during this time of the day it'll probably be deserted."_

"_What, you want to ice skate?" He asks disbelievingly._

"_Nah, we can just lay on the ice."_

_Stan laughs, "are you serious?"_

"_Yeah why not, that's something we've never done."_

"_Because its ice, and last I checked ice was fucking cold!" He chuckles out._

"_I'll let you lay on my jacket if you don't want to get wet," I coo at him and he scowls before cracking up._

"_I'll meet you there then since we both took our cars?" He asks me and I nod grinning._

_We hop in our separate cars and he follows me to the pond. Like I had thought its empty as most everyone is either at work or school. Parking, we meet up at the edge of the pond and look out over the crystal white ice._

"_Well come on then, its not going to get any icier," Stan says to me. _

_We slowly and carefully make our way out to the middle of the pond. Once I figure we're in the middle I release a long breath of air and fall back on the ice._

"_Jesus Christ!" Stan yelps suddenly._

"_What?" I ask him, looking up at his figure._

"_You don't just plop down on ice like that, it could have been thin!"_

"_Stan, I can barely remember a time when the lake wasn't frozen solid." I tell him and gesture for him to lay down beside me. He makes his way next to me and immediately shivers._

"_Why the fuck are we laying on ice again?"_

"_Because I suggested it, and you didn't put up much a fight."_

"_Right."_

_I had expected we'd do what we normally did when with each other, talk. But I can't think of anything to say, and part of me is afraid that if I talk I might tell Stan something he doesn't want to hear. So instead of talking we lay on the ice in silence. I cast a few glances at the clouds, trying to ponder what I think some of them look like, but after a few minutes I decide I don't care about the clouds._

_One of the few things I do care about is beside me, resting as silently as I am. His head is aimed at the clouds as well but knowing Stan I know he's not trying to figure out what they look like either._

"_I think I'm really close to getting a promotion at work," he suddenly speaks up._

"_Oh yeah?" _

"_Yeah…I've been doing really well; Mr. Zanadaci has even given me a few grunts of approval."_

"_That's good, I know you've been looking forward to that promotion."_

"_Yeah…"_

"_The Bronco's are off to a pretty good season," I suddenly pip up after conversation had lulled back to comfortable silence._

"_Yeah?" Stan questions._

"_Mh-hm."_

"_We should go to a few games this season," Stan tells me listlessly. I say nothing._

_This is pretty much how we spend the afternoon. Talking about meaningless subjects, and then falling back into a familiar silence, then bringing up another meaningless topic. Its when I realize that the sun has changed positions that Stan and I have probably been laying on the ice for a few hours. _

"_Hey dude, don't you have wedding stuff to get to?" I ask him, but after a few moments when he doesn't respond I turn to look at him to see he's fallen asleep._

_After poking him a few times he finally mutters that he's awake and sits up bleary eyed._

"_Man who falls asleep on ice?" I ask him raising an eyebrow._

_He makes some meaningless noise and stands, stretching as he does so, and I follow suit. When he releases a long exhale he looks at me critically. "What time is it?"_

"_I don't know." I answer him._

_He rubs the back of his neck, cracking it as he does so, "god my ass is frozen."_

_At this I laugh, "mine too."_

"_Let's ax resting on the ice as something to do okay?" He questions as we start to make our way back to our separate cars. My response, is again, to say nothing to his references to the future. _

_When we reach the cars Stan groans once he views his clock, "I'm late. They're going to kill me."_

_I give him a small smile._

"_Alright dude," he says to me as he crouches down into his car, looking back at me once he's started it up. "I'll call you up in a few days okay? Mr. Zanadaci's going to have me working over time the next few days, for whatever reason so I'll be scarce."_

_I nod at him._

_He nods back slowly. "Dude, are you okay, you look a little off for some reason."_

"_I'm fine," and at this I put on my best grin for my best friend. "Now you run on home."_

_He scowls at me, but I can tell it's lighthearted. Looking at him looking at me, I can't help myself. I didn't want to raise any suspicion in him, but to know I'll never see him again…as planned out as I'm making my last day, and as much as I'm trying to act like everything is normal, the fact is that its not._

_Crouching down I bend into his car and clutch him in a tight hug. He pats me back awkwardly and attempts to pull away but I don't let him go._

"_Hey…" he says gently, "are you sure you're okay? Kenny?" He says my name after I haven't responded._

"_I'm fine," I lie again, still holding tight onto him._

"…_then why are you hugging me like we'll never see each other again?"_

_I don't want to answer that, so I do what I do best and grin into the hug. "Why Stan, I never knew you had such toned back muscles."_

"_Dude!" He drawls out and pushes me off him. I chuckle and turn my head for a moment, just in case my eyes are showing something they shouldn't. _

"_I'm only kidding," I say._

"_I know," he responds after a second or two. "Anyways I really gotta get going. I'll see you later okay?"_

"_Yeah."_

_With that said and done Stan closes his car door and I watch him drive off before walking off and entering my own car._

_The feeling I have is getting stronger, that feeling of things coming to a close. It's time I chose my own way out._

_Driving my way through South Park, I head for the bottom of the mountains that are the farthest from town, where an old garage is. Pulling my car into the parking lot I hop out and approach a few of the guys I see hanging around the garage. _

"_Kenny!" A few of them greet me, giving me pats on the back._

"_Don't tell us you're here for a race? We haven't seen you in ages, we heard your boyfriend didn't approve."_

_Happily giving them the bird, I approach the only garage that isn't opened and take a key from my key ring to open the lock._

"_I'm here now aren't I?" I tell them, lifting the garage door to reveal one of my few secrets. _

_Yeah, Stan doesn't like that I race, especially since he knows of my very specific dangers, but he's aware I still do it. But as far as he knows I've been borrowing race cars since I obviously cant race the piece of scrap metal I drive. In actuality I race the one thing I've allowed myself to buy. I've been really good with my money, putting dime after dime into the bank, but I'm still a 19 year old. I have to spend some money on myself, and so with a little spare change I bought myself a race car. It's nothing special, but its good enough to serve its purpose. The guys I race with don't even know I own the car, they assume I'm borrowing it from someone else as well._

"_You telling us you want to go for a spin?" One of the guys speaks up as he approaches me, leaning on my car._

"_Yeah, why not?" I grin at him and he grins back before heading for his own._

"_Well boys, lets not disappoint, we'll take a ride through the mountains shall we?" He shouts out._

_There's a whoop of agreement and as I climb into my car, I watch as about six others do the same. The sound of engines revving pierces through the air and I rub my hands together in anticipation as I set my gear and drive out of the garage heading for the area where the races start._

_As soon as all seven of us have lined up, the familiar shot in the air sounds and the simultaneous squeal of tires penetrates my ears, there's a few excited yells from the drivers and a few of the side onlookers who are always around to watch._

_When it comes to racing cars I'm not particularly good, I haven't won a single race. I ride for the thrill of it, the cheating death aspect of it. Because when I race and don't die to me that's like a 'fuck you' to death._

_And so I can't believe I'm in the lead. For the first time in my life I could win this race. Glancing into my mirror I can tell a lot of the other guys are slowing down because the roads are getting narrower, the curves more sudden. This race has become suicide, but I'm going to die either way so my foot stays slammed on the pedal, making insane turns, ignoring the occasional slip my car is doing on the ice. I'll never get to do this again. Never._

_When the car lurches oddly, something in my heart jerks. It's not supposed to do that. I look at the stats that are placed where a radio in a normal car is supposed to be. _

_They're not supposed to be that low. _

_I'm sorta surprised at this, I figured I'd slip off the ice and get into a predicable car accident, but this? To know that someone's deliberately fucked with my car? Because I know it was someone, my car isn't failing me because of its mechanics. I didn't imagine this is how it would all end. I didn't think that while planning my will and the people involved in it that someone was planning something else of their own._

_I smirk as I see a bend coming up. Looking at my rear view mirror I notice that I'm too far ahead for anyone to see what's about to happen. I twitch the wheel slightly and smirk again, shaking my head in disbelief._

_The wheel's locked itself._

_I won't be able to turn._

_I slowly ease my foot off the pedal. There's no point in making the force of impact more brutal than it needs to be. I rest back into my seat, the intensity and adrenaline of the race being left behind. _

_I stop gripping the wheel._

_What should a persons last thoughts be as they're about to die? In a blink of an eye I see Stan and I see Kyle. The only two friends I've ever really had, who ever really cared. _

_Yeah, that seems right. My last thoughts should be of them, together. _

_Everything's been set up for them, it's all perfect. They just have to make it work, it'll be hard at times I'm sure, but they can do it. I know they can._

_I smile just before the car hits the edge. They'll owe me for this._

_And even as I smile, part of my brain is furious. I was supposed to choose my own way out and instead someone else chose it for me._

**-FG  
**

* * *

**AN: **/sniffle/ Bye Ken-ken… This is the last Kenny chapter for self explanatory reasons. Okay now, before I'm yelled at further I had perfectly good reasons for being MIA. When I said updates would be slower I did not mean THIS slower. I ended up frying my notebooks adaptor and was a little too cheap to buy it right away with pending bills, and…shopping trips and such. And while there is a few other computers in my house none of them hold my stories so that's why a few of you saw me reviewing stories and updating others. Anyway please R & R! The next chapter should be out hopefully by next weekend if all goes well. Oh, and like I have said before chapters were only planned in their entirety up till this chapter. 


	12. Stan and Bebe

**AN: **I wanted to make it different from my other stories. I wanted to add more details, I wanted to add some side story, and draw everything out. I wanted build up, and I want everyone to truly understand my interpretation of each character at this age, before I throw slash at you. But, I also don't want to have everything answered, I WILL be leaving some things hanging to let you make your own assumptions. The person who killed Kenny? Well…/shrugs/ I haven't decided if that's a route I want to take. After all, people do get away with murder. Having someone kill him rather than him "killing" himself, wasn't the original idea. But after realizing that maybe Kenny was a little too smart I decided to one up him with something even _he _hadn't seen coming. And I update this chapter on my day of birth as a present to all of you! I'm 20! YAY!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Bebe**

**Stan**

My day's only just started and I already regret bothering to come to class. All I've gotten so far are looks of sympathy, pity, hugs from people I don't even know and everyone's asking me the same questions. "Are you alright Stan?" "Maybe you should have taken a few more days off."

I've already missed a week of class, and I can't afford to miss any more. At first Bebe had wanted to me to stay home for a little longer too, but I just can't do that. At home all I'd be doing is sitting around, having plenty of time to think about who's not sitting beside me. Who's not telling me about the latest street car race, or what we should do this upcoming weekend. Why in the hell would I want to stay home and brood? At least in class and at work I can throw my entire self into what I'm doing and attempt to forget.

But these assholes are making it hard with their constant questions and suggestions of me going home. Even my professors are going easy on me. Do people think being suddenly acting more kind to me is helping me out? All its doing is reminding me of why they're being so nice. Everyone's being really careful not to mention my outburst from the funeral, since most all of them were there to see it, but the looks of pity give it away. I'm half embarrassed and half angry, but I quietly seethe my way through it.

The rest of my classes go by pretty much the same way my first one does. People fawn and do everything they can for me in an effort to "ease my pain." When I snap at a few of them to leave me alone I catch them all exchange looks of worried understanding and instead of leaving me alone they latch harder onto me. As I realize that this is how things are going to be for awhile I let them do what they want and simply ignore them.

Shrugging off people that offer to walk me to my car as if I'm an invalid, I sit in my seat and take a few deep breaths. At least at work things should be okay. The restaurant I work at isn't in South Park so few people know about Kenny except for the few that I've chosen to tell. Nodding in approval at the thought I make my way to work, bustling in through the back as if nothing has changed.

I get about two feet.

I can't imagine how everyone knows about Kenny; I know I only told three people of a staff of fourty. As I wave them off and put things away in my locker my boss calls me into his office before I can step into the kitchen to start cooking.

I sigh into his seat and look at him expectantly. He stares back his usual hard scowl in place. My boss is an incredible well known chef and I'm lucky enough that he saw potential in me and asked me, well ordered me, to become his apprentice and 2nd chef. A pretty high honor for a 19 year old. Unfortunately even though he's an incredible chef he lacks people skills, and for the most part it seems as if he hates all people in general. I still find it hard to believe that this guy is Kenny's lawyers little brother. _That_ Mr. Zanadaci is a nice polite older man, _this_ Zanadaci while looking like a younger version of his older brother is blunt, cold and bordering on rude most of the time.

"Your friend's dead then?" He asked bluntly and I nodded. "Good funeral service?" I nodded again.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me closely, "are you going to be able to cook today or should I just send you home now before you start to slack?"

"I'm fine sir," I told him firmly. He scowled at me in disbelief and I exhaled slowly. "Okay, I feel like shit but I want to work, it'll take my mind off everything. It's better than sitting and home and having time to think."

He sits at his desk with his arms folded as he studied me for a long moment, eventually he nodded and waved me away. "Shoo then, get to work."

I nodded and left, clocking in and heading back into the kitchen. I had barely finished making my first pastry of the night before my co-workers started questioning me on my condition. They weren't as irritating as my peers at class, but it was still annoying and unhelpful. I tired not to let it bother me too much and kept trying to remind myself that they thought they were helping.

Halfway through my shift an order came in for a swordfish pasta dish, and I would be the chef to make it since no one else was able to and Zanadaci was busy in his office going over whatever it is that he does in there.

I stared at the order and didn't notice as the others started to stare at me.

"Stan?" One of my co-workers called out my name gently.

"W-what?" I muttered and realized my vision was getting blurred and that she was very carefully taking the large cutting knife out of my hand.

"Is something wrong?" She asked rubbing my back slowly. I tore my eyes away from the order and looked at her. She was an older woman, probably only a few years younger than my mom and she was the 3rd chef. She was the only one that never seemed to mind that her superior was the same age as her own son.

"I…umm," I looked back at the order. "This was Kenny's favorite and he… I never had much time to make it for him, even when he asked me too."

Before she could say anything I swept past her, my breathing picking up. I can't cry at work! That'd only show everyone how much younger I was than them. I hid in the pantry closest and locked the door, crouching down besides all the warehouse packages of flour and sugar.

I faintly heard knocking and the slight pleas of my co-workers to come out of the store room.

I think the last time I made that swordfish dish for Kenny was 3 months ago. 3 months. He kept asking me, but I simply didn't have the time or patience to make such a dish without being forced too.

"Come on Stan!" He had asked two weeks before he had died.

"No," I told him crossly. We were at my parents' house and they were out for the night. Bebe was hanging with her friends so I had called Kenny over. The first thing he had answered me with when I asked what he wanted me to make for dinner had been the swordfish. "Choose something else. That's too much work and we don't even have the all ingredients here."

"We can go to the grocery store! And I can help you make it!"

"What could you possibly do, and what grocery store nearby would we get some of the ingredients?" I asked him annoyed.

I had watched him think over the recipe. He knew it by heart as I did since it was his favorite.

"Alright," he grinned sheepishly. "I can't do anything, but I could wash the dishes and cheer you on as you make it! And for your information, some grocery stores are 24 hours!"

"Forget it," I answered. "Why not just a roasted chicken?"

"Roasted chicken," he had muttered to himself as we walked into my parents' kitchen. "Any idiot can make a roasted chicken, _I _can make a roasted chicken."

I glared at him, "we could always go for take out you know. I don't have to cook anything."

He had put his hands up defensively, "a roasted chicken is fine." He smiled, "and at least I can help you with that."

That had been the last time he had asked me about it and two weeks later he died. I jumped from my crouched position as someone began banging on the store room door.

"What did I say Stan!" Zanadaci barked through the door.

I opened the door meekly with my head looking down. I could see my boss's shoes as well as a cluster of others behind him.

"You!" He pointedly looked at me as I raised my head to face him, "you come back into my office, and the rest of you get back to work!"

"But sir who's going to make the fish?" Someone called out softly.

"I said back to work!" He answered and glared at me before turning on his heels with me following.

He slammed his door behind me, "I asked you if you could cook today and you lied to my face." He stated simply.

"I can, I just…that was Kenny's favorite."

"So?" He asked almost confused, but his confusion was masked mostly by irritation.

"So… I," I averted my eyes from him.

"Should I regret making you 2nd chef?" He asked suddenly which immediately got me to whip my head back in his direction. He was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Margaret is older, certainly with more experience than you and she is only 3rd chef…but she does not have the passion or natural talent you have…" he muttered to himself.

"Mr. Zanadaci, I- no, I can make the order."

He looked at me for a moment before looking off thinking, "can you? The idea that the dish was your friend's favorite sends you crying to the store room. I can't have that every time someone orders the swordfish can I? The person who ordered it now will already be waiting longer to get their food. Which could mean unhappy customers, which could mean bad reviews…do you understand Stan?"

I nodded numbly to him. I couldn't be demoted, not after I worked so hard to maintain my position. "And I wasn't crying," I muttered to him.

"I can't fathom what has you so upset anyway," he continued, ignoring my comment. "I would think you'd be happy to make the dish, better than you ever have even, to honor your friend's amazing tastes in food."

I thought for a moment, but said nothing.

"We will not be having this conversation again will we?" He asked, lowering his arms to glower at me. I shook my head at once and he nodded firmly. "Good, I want you back in the kitchen now."

Leaving his room I thought about what he said. I acknowledge Margaret as she asked if I was doing okay, I merely took out the food needed to complete the recipe and began slicing, cutting and pounding. I vaguely heard Zanadaci come back into the kitchen bellowing that the next person to talk to me would be fired in an instant before he retreated to the back office again. I think I smiled when he did that.

When the restaurant was closing for the night and I was cleaning my own set of kitchen knives Zanadaci came up to stop beside me.

"The person who received the swordfish was exceptionally pleased with its outcome," Zanadaci looked at his nails as if he wasn't used to giving compliments every day, which of course he was not. "Apparently he's had it before at other establishments and it had yet to impress him… until today."

"Oh?" I asked not understanding what he was getting at. I'm glad it turned out well, especially since I had practically attacked all the ingredients with a fire I don't remember ever having when I cooked.

"Mhmm," he muttered in answer. "And he said he'd write us quite the nice review in the NY Times when he returned home.

I nearly dropped my cleaver and he looked at me in slight disgust, "do be careful with sharp objects," he told me. "Yes, apparently he was a secret food critic. Though, he did also say he'd mention the long wait time in the review as well. Have a fair evening Stan."

With that I watched my boss head toward another chef, curse words flying out of his mouth as he scolded her on the proper way to clean the blenders. I smiled as I folded my knives away, locking them in a cabinet. Trust Zanadaci to give you a compliment and a scold at the same time.

Driving home I remembered something I had to do before I forgot, not that I really would forget, but I'd try to put it off as soon as possible.

Bebe needed to be told about the agreement and its unusual circumstances. My grip on my steering wheel tightened as did my jaw. Even though I would have told anyone who asked that Kenny and Bebe had been getting along up till when he died, I knew that was a shit faced lie.

I think that was the only right out lie they had both ever told me. That they liked each other. And when Bebe mentioned yesterday how I had always put Kenny before her? Fuck if this was going to turn out okay. I had chided myself when she said that, thinking at least I would never do it again. But here I was, driving home to - in fact - put Kenny's wishes above hers. As I sure couldn't imagine her agreeing to me doing this.

At least she seemed to have liked Kyle.

When I get to our apartment I can hear Bebe singing to herself as she cooks a very late dinner. Even though I am the one born with the talent to cook I don't usually make dinner at home since Bebe seems to enjoy the role of stereotypical "housewife", or at least the cooking part. The cleaning duties are shared equally between us.

Taking a deep breath, and then taking a second to once more curse Kenny for putting me in this tight spot I walk into the apartment. I don't mind so much when she hugs and coos and fusses over me about my first day being back since Kenny died. Once I've set everything down and peeled off the work gear I settle at the dinner table and ask her about her day.

Naturally, as predicated, she goes off and tells me every last fucking detail. Bebe has never been fond of summarizing and this is the first time I don't mind. It gives me time to think about how I ought to approach the topic. Though, after too many automatic "uh huh's" from me she stops talking and eating to stare.

"What's wrong?" She asks. "Thinking about Kenny honey?"

Sorta. I clear my throat and take a last sip of my water. "Something like that, Bebe you liked Kyle right?"

She looks taken aback at the seemingly random question, "yes. He seemed really nice." She said cutting into her pork chop. "We talked a bit when you had been…"

Bebe trails off and I just nod my encouragement for her to continue. I know she meant when I had locked myself in my room that night. Kyle and I had just talked a little too much about Kenny, and looked at too many pictures and I hadn't been able to handle it. When Ike had called I was relieved that I could go back to my bedroom and be upset some more.

"Right," she continues. "Well we talked a bit, and he even watched some of those movies you don't like with me." She smiled, "I think he actually enjoyed them too, anyway in that small amount of time I could say that I definitely liked him. He's still the same Kyle."

Good, this was good.

"It's just too bad he lives so far away," she added after a pause.

Yes, perfect!

"Actually Bee he…umm, well he's going to take the next semester off and he's…moving back to South Park during that time off," I manage out. Giving myself an internal pat on the back when I notice none of what I said was a lie or even a stretch of the truth.

"Really?" She asked surprised. "How come he didn't mention it to me then?"

"Well…" I started. This is where it would get tricky. "He probably wanted me to tell you."

"Why would he want that?" She asked confused.

"Because he probably figured it would be a bit difficult to explain to you why he and…I would be moving in together."

"…what?"

"Kyle…will be moving in…with…me." I stop there to gauge her reaction.

Bebe put her utensils down to stare at me, "you're letting him move in here with us?"

"Not-"

She cuts me off, "Stan that's nice of you to offer our place while Kyle looks for an apartment of his own, but this place isn't made for three people. Where will all his things go?"

I shake my head, "no Bebe. Kyle…Kyle and I are moving into a separate apartment from this one. Just the two of us…without you." I add, just to be sure things start to sink in further.

"…you're…leaving me?" She asks quietly.

"No! No, God no! No, Bebe I love you I'm not going anywhere."

She scrunches up her face in frustration and more confusion, "then I don't understand why you're moving in with Kyle and leaving me behind."

I sighed and hung my head, "because Kenny asked me too."

I could hear her voice catch, but I didn't want to see her reaction just yet. I had to gather my own courage against her first.

"Because Kenny… what?" Her voice is so deadly quiet that I almost want to tell her I'm just kidding and say 'happy severely early April Fools Day'. But I don't and I look up at her red suppressed angry face. "Could you perhaps…explain more thoroughly?" She asked though it sounded more like a demand to me.

I complied, "while you and everyone else went to the reception yesterday Kyle and I went to Kenny's lawyer's office where we were informed that we were the only one's Kenny left anything to. Well, I mean I already knew that, he had told me personally before, but anyway," I rushed along when I saw Bebe was losing a lot of patience. "It turns out that before Kyle and I can get anything in his will we have to sign this agreement saying we'll sign a lease and live together for four and a half months. If we don't, then we don't get anything he left for us and it'll probably go to the government."

For some reason she seems to calm down a bit and goes back to cutting up her chop, "well at least you haven't signed it yet. Maybe there's a way around it."

"Err, actually Bebe…"

She stops eating again, "you already signed it didn't you?" She asks her voice accusing and hardened.

"Yeah."

"Why would you sign something like that without talking to me first?!"

"What's to talk about?" I countered back. "This is Kenny's last dying wish for me, I wouldn't say no!"

"Why the hell not?" She cried back at me. "This is absurd Stan! We're getting married in two months! You want us to not live together for two and a half extra months while you complete this stupid charade of Kenny's?!"

"Well…I mean, yeah. What's the big deal, you said you liked Kyle!"

That was a bad mistake.

"It's not about whether I like him or not! Is that why you asked me what I thought of him?! Then fine, I fucking hate Kyle! There, now you don't have to move in with him!"

"Bebe don't be ridiculous," I muttered to her.

"Ridiculous, I'm being ridiculous?! Do you not see how ridiculous this whole thing is? What's the point Stan, why do you have to move in with Kyle? Give me a good reason, why Kenny couldn't give you whatever crap he has in his will for you both, without you guys having to go through with all this?"

My growing anger deflated when I realized I didn't know. His letter to me didn't say.

Bebe lets out this fake horrible laugh, "you don't even know do you?"

"What and you do?" I rounded back to her.

"Of course I do!" She nearly screamed at me. "He's doing this because he's always hated me and wants to get you away from me! He probably figures if I'm not around to poison your mind - or whatever bull shit he convinced himself of - that you'll drop me!"

I folded my arms in annoyance, "that's ludicrous crap Bebe."

"And see, look you don't even see it, you don't see what he's trying to do!"

"Because he's not trying to do anything!"

"You are not moving in with Kyle Stan," she replied firmly as if that is the end of it.

"Yes I am," I bitingly responded. "Kyle and I both already signed the agreement and regardless of what you say I'm going through with this."

Bebe stood back from her chair and ignored the crash sound it made as it plummeted against the wall. "I'm tired of you putting everything he says and wants before me! He's _DEAD_ and I'm _STILL_ competing with him!"

"Don't!" I yell, shoving my own chair back. "Talk about him like that!"

"Like what?! He _is_ dead!"

"Bebe," I growled warningly attempting to check my anger.

She's panting slightly with anger before she lowers her voice, "I want a choice right now Stan," she continues, but at least leaving Kenny's name out of it. "You either give up this stupid idea of Kenny's or I'm leaving!"

I tightened my fist as I stared at my fiancée's raging eyes, "this is Kenny's last dying wish Bebe…" I said slowly, carefully and determinedly. "Don't make me; _do not_ make me _choose_, between the last thing he'll ever ask of me and the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

I don't know if that last bit helped but she almost softens a bit before going ridged as stone. "Our wedding is officially on hold until this fucking thing is over," she responded and brushed past me without a word. I remained standing at the table listening to her bang around in the bedroom, finally watching as she emerged with a packed bag.

"I'm going to my parents for a few days. I can barely stand to look at you right now." She said without sparing me a glance before grabbing her keys and leaving.

I slump back in my chair and stare at my dinner plate, "That didn't go so bad." I mutter to the half eaten pork chop on my plate.

**Bebe**

What I really want to do is scream, scream and yell and pound and kick until I'm too tired to go on, but I can't since I'm driving.

That dead bastard!

I knew he was up to something after the cobbler incident, but taking Stan away from me? He's gone too far and he's lucky to be dead, otherwise I'd be on my way to his house to kill him instead of going to the cemetery to spit on his grave.

I park my car outside the cemetery since it closed at dusk. It's only closed to cars and the sign says nothing about individual people so I walk around the fence and make my way through the tombstones to where Kenny's ought to be.

Normally I might be a little scared about entering a cemetery at night, especially in South Park, but I think my fury alone will keep anyone or more notably anything away from me.

I stop when I reach the small plot of land Kenny's grave is at, next to the tree. Stan has never told me, but the location of his site is too perfect for me not to wonder how much this thing cost us. And at the time I didn't mind, it was Stan's best friend we were burying and the McKormick's couldn't possibly afford the price tag it takes to put someone in the ground.

Now though…I minded. This spot was too good for such a conniving asshole.

"You little shit…" I seethed out quietly to his grave. "What is your problem, what do you have against me marrying Stan that you would try to take him away from me? He's the best thing in my life right now and I'll be damned if I let him go without a fight! Did you think that after he told me of this fucking plan of yours that I'd drop him?" I laughed in the darkness as I kept my gaze on his tombstone.

"You're wrong Kenny; Stan loves me and only me and I am right for him. I'll prove you wrong, you'll see how happy I can make him. You might have had one up on me before we got engaged but I got one up on you when Stan proposed to me _and_ without telling you first! I admit the cobbler incident gave you another point and so does this agreement of yours. But guess who gets another point, because who's the dead one here Kenny? Who's the one that got into a car accident huh? You are. And once I do marry Stan I'll have another point making us a nice even match until I have his baby, an added bonus because I'm going to plan this pregnancy like no other. Our child will be born on your death day even if I hold the thing in!"

I sneer at the hard cold stone I'm staring at, "then the final score will me 4, you 3. I _am _going to win this Kenny."

Spitting on his grave I turn on my heel to stomp away. I let out a shriek when something catches my foot and I trip and fall.

"Shit," I wince as I rub my foot to see what I fell over. It's a root belonging to the tree that rests over Kenny. I don't remember that root being there before. Shrugging it off I compose myself and stomp off for the parking lot, making a mental note to call my parents before I arrive suddenly at their doorstep.

**-FG  
**

* * *

**AN: ** HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! 


	13. Kyle and Stan

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

As I'm cursing to myself trying to find the notes from a lecture class my phone starts to ring. I choose to ignore it and continue my search for the missing notes, they would go missing. The notes I needed for the upcoming final.

"Ah, found you, you bastards," I say triumphantly to the notes when I come across them in my sock drawer. My phone's still ringing so I turn and pick it before plopping myself on my bed adding the notes to the massive others that are covering my bed.

"Yeah?" I say into the phone distracted as I start arranging the lecture notes by date taken.

"Hey…Kyle?"

I look up, the notes instantly forgotten.

"Yeah, hey Stan…sorry did I forget to call you about something? I thought we weren't going to talk until tomorrow about what we found as far as more apartments go?"

I'd been back in school for two weeks and already the day I got back here from South Park I started looking online for places Stan and I might like to live in. We didn't have high standards and we had talked with Zanadaci about prices and decided that a two bedroom, one bath with living room and kitchen would be more than enough for two guys. It had been relatively easy to find places, so it was more about location compared to where we lived with where the community college was and where Stan's work was.

He had been checking the places out, and so far he'd been telling me that most places were crap or too far away to commute to. I've trusted his judgment and we've been communicating back and forth about the places, and what Stan thought of them, via phone.

"Though I did find a place over on-"

"That isn't it," he interrupts me and I stop my rambling.

"Oh, then…?" I trail off waiting for him to explain his phone call.

"I got a promotion at work today," he says impassively.

"Um," I look at my reflection in my mirror. God I needed some sleep. "Okay, congratulations?" I ask questionably.

"That isn't it either," he answers back and sighs into the phone.

I'm confused, I don't know what Stan wants from me with this information. I mean… I don't even know where he works.

"I just…" he starts again. "I've been waiting for this promotion for months and I was so excited that the first person I thought to call was Kenny."

Oh.

"And I did, and then I got this recording saying his phone had been disconnected."

Oh.

"And I was so confused and I couldn't figure out why and then suddenly it hit me…Kenny's dead."

Oh.

"He's really gone and I,I mean I've always known that…but I…" He stops and I wait patiently for him to continue. "You know what? Sorry I called, you're probably busy studying."

"No I-" I don't get to complete my sentence before he hangs up the phone.

**Stan**

Two weeks shouldn't be able to change your entire life. Two weeks ago Kenny died, two weeks ago my old friend from childhood re-entered my life. Two weeks ago Bebe walked out of it temporarily and still hasn't spoken to me since I told her about the agreement.

And then this evening, Zanadaci made me happy for once, but it didn't last too long.

"Stan!" He had barked to me just a few hours ago, before I left work.

I walked cautiously into his office. I had been a little concerned since I had stumbled over making a few pastries. They were minor mistakes and the only person who would notice would be Zanadaci, so of course he had. I figured he was going to chew me out.

"Sit," he commanded from his desk when I entered and I sat down. He didn't look happy as he eyed me and I could feel the nervousness settling in my stomach. "Now what's your problem?" He asked.

I blinked confused, "problem sir?"

"You're screwing up again and I want to know why. I thought we had settled the matter on your friend."

"Oh, yes we did. It's nothing sir, I'm fine."

"Lie to me again and you're fired," he told me smoothly.

I sighed. There were some things I really didn't want to tell my boss, private things, but one way or another he pried and found out anyway. "My fiancée and I had a fight over something Kenny asked me to do and she left for her parents house two weeks ago and hasn't spoken to me since."

"That wasn't so hard now was it?" He asked mildly. "Stan," he continued without waiting for me to respond. "You've been my apprentice for how long now?"

"Uh, two years Mr. Zanadaci."

He nodded, "it really is about time I made you 1st chef."

My throat had caught and I stopped breathing, I had started to grin. The first real one in a few weeks.

"But I'm not going to," he finished and I let my body deflate. That hadn't been the first time he had gotten my hopes up. Every so often I think he liked to burst people's bubbles to keep us all on a short and controlled leash so he could exercise his power. "Instead I thought it best to skip that unnecessary step in the ladder and just promote you to head chef. I have too much paperwork these days and really can't be bothered with cooking anymore on a daily basis, such is-"

I had cut him off to leap out of my chair so I could lean over his giant desk to hug him. He froze, but only for a second before he pried me off, almost pushing me away.

"Business conduct, please!" He yelled at me before calming and smoothed down his chef's coat to look at me squarely. "This is a big leap for me Stan, entrusting my restaurants reputation in your hands. If you slip up once, you're back to 3rd chef."

"I'm 2nd chef-" I started before he interrupted me.

"I'll demote you lower. Don't mess up."

"I won't Mr. Zanadaci, I promise, thank you so much!"

I had wanted to hug him again, but stopped when I saw the hard look in his face. Instead I had started for the door. "I can't wait to tell Kenny!" I had said and ran out. Now that I think about it I had heard my boss mutter something about him, but I had been too thrilled to notice.

"I thought he was dead?" He had asked quietly. But I didn't register it at the time, and now it has.

It's stupid really, to have forgotten. What made things worse was when I got home there was no one there. I doubt I would have cried into Bebe's arms or anything if she had been there, but it still would have been nice to have the presence of another person there, wanted or not. I had racked my brain of the people I could call, my parents, but I didn't want to worry them. They were worried about me enough. One of the guys, Craig, Clyde, Token, Bradley, Butters, Tweek…no. They were good friends, but they weren't the sort of people you called when you wanted to talk about someone's death. They wouldn't be particularly comforting. Tweek might have been if he was able to get sentences out without stuttering. That would only annoy me rather than comfort me.

I had thought of calling Wendy, but felt too awkward since I wasn't sure if Bebe might have called her to tell her about the agreement and at the moment I don't think I could have stood being yelled out.

Kyle had been the last person I thought of, and he only crossed my mind because I had connected him with Wendy.

I had chewed my lip for awhile, looking at his cell number and before I could think too much on it and dialed before I pressed send. He _had_ said to call him if I needed to talk…

Unlike the last time when I had called him to inform him of Kenny's funeral, this time he took a long time picking up the phone. Too long, in fact that I started having doubts and just as I was deciding to hang up the phone he picked up. He thought I called to talk about apartments.

I told him of my promotion and he gave me the expected congratulations, and after that I had heard the rustling of papers and realized he was probably studying for his end of the semester finals. It gave me a good excuse to hang up the phone.

Now instead of having someone to talk to I'm sitting on my couch, looking at the blank television screen.

I need to do something with myself.

I stand and head out of the apartment for my car. It's midnight, but the grocery store is open twenty four hours a day. Which suddenly makes sense to me. Rolling in with a large cart I race through the rows dropping in everything from vanilla extract to a large duck.

By the time I get home, its two hours later and I'm a few hundred dollars poorer. I stuff everything in cupboards and the fridge, leaving a few boxes on the dining floor when I can't find room for them. I roll up my sleeves, preheat the oven and pull out pots, pans, skillets, and a wok.

This is the only thing I can think of that will take my mind off Kenny, cooking is the only thing I can really lose myself in. And I was careful, while shopping to avoid getting anything that Kenny especially liked. If I cook enough and fierce enough I'll get tired, too tired to think and then I can go to school exhausted. All my energy and focus will be on staying awake. At least it'll get me through tonight and tomorrow. I'll worry about the other days when they come around.

**Kyle**

"Kyle I cannot agree with this, taking an entire semester off? What if someone takes your spot?"

"Mom," both my brother and I whine slightly in annoyance to our mom.

"We've already talked about this," I tell her. "It's my decision and besides, all my stuff has already been shipped to Stan, we're at the airport and we've already signed the lease on the apartment."

"I know, I just don't think this is the best of ideas. Going back to South Park? Bubbalah we moved to California to get away from that place."

"Yeah, I know and now I'm going back. Mom, I promised Kenny when I signed that agreement, you know that."

She sighed and shook her head disapprovingly, "that doesn't mean I have to like it."

I smile at her, "no one's asking you too. Now are we hugging or are we leaving on bad terms?"

She made an irritating noise but hugged me anyway. "Ike say goodbye to your brother."

"I know mom," Ike said rolling his eyes with a grin so only I could see.

She pulled away from me to study me, "water!" She said suddenly with a nod. "I'm going to go get you some bottled water for the plane sweetie. And then I'll ship a few cases a month okay?"

Before I could protest she turned and scurried off to the nearest vendor.

"Water," I spat out in disbelief, looking down at Ike. "Where does she think I'm going, Mexico?"

"It's mom," he said as way of explanation.

I snorted and Ike sighed.

"I wish I could go with you," he said wistfully.

"Why? It's probably going to be awkward, exhausting and not to mention I've realized the frigid air makes my hair curl. I'll come back home with a giant bob for hair."

Ike laughed, "yeah but still. It's like all those adventures you told me you guys used to have. Now you get to have another. Going to a far off snowy land-"

"It's only Colorado-"

"With nothing but the clothes on your back-"

"What are you talking about, I have suitcases and boxes filled with clo-"

"To meet with exotic people, that seemed to be a dreamland away."

"You've been reading Narnia again haven't you?"

"Bring me back a souvenir?" Ike suddenly asks me.

"Like what, it's South Park, not Sweden. What do you want from there that you can't get anywhere else?"

"Ship me some of that eternal snow they have there!"

"It'll melt moron."

"Not if its real eternal snow, it won't!"

"You're acting about 4."

"Just ship me the damn snow."

"I'll try."

"Here Kyle!" Our mom suddenly exclaims rushing back to us her arms holding about 4 bottles of water.

I say nothing and take them, placing them in my bag. I glance at one of the terminal directories and see that my plane is on time and that I ought to be heading through security now if I intend to get to the gate on time.

"Thanks," I tell her. "I should be going, tell dad I said bye?" I question as she and Ike nod. He wasn't able to see me off because of work. "Thanks, I'll see you both in April."

"April!" My mother huffs. "I don't see why you can't come home, at the very least, for Hanukah bubbalah."

I resist rubbing my eyes in frustration, "mom we talked about this too. We talked about everything. I'm not coming home for Hanukah because I don't want to interrupt the four months."

"What would Kenny have had against you coming home for the holidays?"

"I don't know…" I seethe out through clenched teeth. "Probably nothing, I just don't want to risk ruining the agreement in any way."

"Well why don't you give that lawyer a call, I really would prefer it if you could be home for-"

"Mom!" I finally yell and sigh at her upward glare at me. "Look, it won't hurt for me to not be home this one time in 19 years okay? I'm spending Christmas with Stan and the Marsh's. You always liked the Marsh's didn't you?"

She scoffs to herself, but nods anyway.

"Good, okay I really gotta get going." I bend down to kiss her cheek and offer one more hug. Pulling away I give Ike a small one to which he protests to, making me ruffle his hair instead.

"Don't forget the snow," he tells me.

"I won't. Bye!" I say to them both and start making my way to the very long security line, hearing their fading argument.

"What snow?" I hear my mom ask Ike.

"South Park snow, I asked for him to mail me some."

"Don't be ridiculous Ike, it'll melt. Kyle don't you dare try and ship your brother snow!" She yells in my direction, but I pretend not to hear her.

Once in my window seat on the plane I take out my headphones and plop them in. I have no desire to talk with strangers on this plane trip. I take out a folder I had resting in my carry on which is tucked nicely under the seat in front of me, and take out the printed pictures Stan took of the apartment.

I'm actually the one that ended up finding it online, and it's pretty amazing. It has everything we're looking for; the basics, with our bedrooms, bath, kitchen with a tiny dining room and living area. Stan said the rooms were big and that it was near campus and the place he worked at, so it was in a convenient location.

Though we didn't discuss it there are two sorta not so normal, kinda special things about the apartment. For one the kitchen is suited for someone who clearly likes to cook, and in the living room there's a large picture window that goes from floor to ceiling and overlooks the mountains. The view alone made the lease price pretty hefty, Stan felt we were living way above our means, but we had three way-ed with Zanadaci and he didn't seem to even stutter over the price of the place. And what I never told Stan was that I wanted the kitchen for him since I'm assuming being a chef he'd like to cook and might appreciate the gesture I made. He never mentioned it when he called me back after having seen it.

He even looked at a few more places he had found before we settled on the apartment I found. In the end, it actually ended up being the only option we could choose. None of the other complexes would provide a 4 and half month lease to two teenage guys on top of that. So it's kinda like this place was made for us in a way.

Putting the pictures and folder away I lean back into my chair and decide to sleep the rest of the way to Denver.

When I'm nudged I rouse awake and see that we've landed at the Denver airport. I grab my stuff and follow everyone off the plane. When I see Stan standing outside of our gate I feel this sense of dread surround me and that's when everything hits me.

What I've done, what we both agreed to do. I dropped a semester at one of the best university's in the country to do what? Live with the guy standing only a few feet away from me, who doesn't look in the least bit happy to see me. I feel a little bit like an idiot.

"Hey," he says to me conversationally.

"Hey," I state back.

"Good flight?" he asks.

"I slept most of the way."

He nods and looks at my large carry-on, "so…is that all you have till your stuff is shipped?"

"No, I've got two suitcases in baggage claim."

"Okay," and with that he turns and starts heading for the baggage claim without me. Rolling my eyes to the ceiling I begin to follow behind him.

Once we've got my bags and we're in the car headed for South Park the awkwardness sets in. I had feared this. The long drive from Denver to South Park with Stan….alone.

"So when's your car get here?" He finally speaks up.

"Oh, umm….in a week or so."

Even though I had already driven to South Park and back once in my car, my mom felt for whatever reason that I couldn't do it again and insisted on shipping my car instead. A huge waste of money. We could have saved a lot if I had driven, and then I wouldn't have had to ship all my belongings as well. And then of course I wouldn't have had to have Stan pick me up to the airport and risk an uncomfortable three hour drive.

"So how've you be-"

He cuts me off before I can even finish the sentence. "Fine," he states coldly.

Okay, touchy subject.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" He asks and I almost sigh in relief.

"No, of course not." I tell him. So long as the radio is on we don't have to make any more of this fake conversation, and part of me is curious on Stan's music tastes, maybe we have that in common. And if we have music in common we'll have something to talk about.

I rest back in my seat, almost excited to ask him about which groups he's seen live, and which ones are better than the rest. I cringe and turn my head to the window when he finds and leaves the station on the sole genre I can't stand. Fucking figures. Beginning to slouch in my chair, thinking that I may have preferred the awkward forced conversation to this crap, I'm surprised when I hear the radio music cut off and for the car speakers to be filled with music by _The Cure_.

"You still like _The Cure_?" I ask him hesitantly.

He glances at me before glancing back at the road, "of course. It's _The Cure_ after all."

At this I smile and turn my head back to the side. For the entire duration of the car ride we listen to all _The Cure _has to offer, even the god awful songs that must have been written when they were off the drugs like 'Friday I'm in Love.'

When we enter South Park's town limits I watch closely as Stan maneuvers his way through the town. He briefly points out South Park Community as we pass it and eventually he pulls into an apartment complex that's only a few blocks away from the college.

The outside is fairly new looking and actually pretty nice. He pulls into a spot and turns off the car, shutting of the voices of _The Cure_, shutting off all means of avoiding conversation.

"Home sweet home," he says dryly looking up at the complex before climbing out.

I don't think he saw me nod, but I continue to sit in the car and look up at the apartment.

This _is_ going to home, at least for a little while.

"Are you coming or what?" I hear Stan ask as he pops the trunk of his car, grabbing some of my luggage.

"Yeah, I'm coming," I tell him and step out of the car, closing the door behind me and taking the rest of my suitcases. "What floor are we on again?" I ask him as I quickly button up my jacket, it's gotten colder since we left the airport.

"We're on the top floor in the back corner, you can't see our apartment from here, but we really do have an incredible view of the mountains." He glances over at me before he starts to wheel some of my stuff away with him. "It's a good place you picked out."

He doesn't wait for my response and I decide not to bother giving one, as I trail behind him, still looking around at our place.

_Our_ place…I'm having mixed feelings about this.

End of Part I

**-FG  
**

* * *

**AN: **So Part I ends! Whew! 13 chapters! 13 chapters and the boys aren't even friends at this point! Ahaha, so in case you haven't guessed, Part I was a sort of "meeting each other again" type deal, and Part II will be a sort of "living together" type deal. Thanks for sticking with me so far everyone, we still have a quite the ride ahead of us! I feel like I should reflect more…but I'm not going to. NONE of Part II is written yet except for a few scenes that I just had to get out of my head. _Naturally_ it's the juicy scenes :D

Though, to note, I chose _The Cure _as mutual music territory because the boys did express appreciation of them in an episode.

…and because deep down, we can all appreciate a little of what _The Cure _has to offer.


	14. Stan and Kyle

**AN: **Part II!!!! To reiterate this part is all about the boys' ordeals/hardships/joys/etc. of living together. And brace yourself people, I'm hitting some _major_ writers turbulence with Part II. Anyway so let's start with some Stan angst. Poor baby, he's going to be one big emotional rollercoaster for awhile. :( Also, for the long wait, and for such wonderful patience and reviews I present 24 fresh pages rather than the usual 7-12!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings   
Part II

**Stan and Kyle  
**

**Stan**

Home sweet home all right.

I flick on the lights as soon as I open the door and make a beeline for the heater after leaving Kyle's stuff at the entrance.

"Wow," I hear him mutter as I fool around with all the buttons and dials. I just want to turn on the heat and there's some twelve buttons, none which say on, off, or heater.

"Wow, what?" I mutter to him when I finally hear the sound of the heater being clicked on.

"The place, it looked nice online, but it's incredible in person."

"For what it costs it had better be. Anyway," I turn to back to him. "As you can see as far as furniture goes, we haven't got any. Zanadaci said we should go rent some, and…" I reach into my pocket and pull out the extra silver key and toss it to Kyle. "That's your key. Unlock the top first, and then the bottom. Living room, dining room," I point out the two different areas that are seemingly connected. "Kitchen," I point out the obvious. "And down the hall are the two bedrooms and the bathroom. The bedrooms are the same size and there's no master so it's just a matter of which view you want."

"…what're the differences in the views?"

"One has more trees than mountains, and the other has more mountains than trees."

"…do you have a preference?" He asks me slowly.

"No."

"Then can I have the more mountains than trees?

"It's the bedroom on the right," I state.

"Thanks," he says and starts to wheel his stuff toward that bedroom. "Did you not bring any of your stuff over yet?"

"No, I just got the keys this morning before I left to pick you up."

"Oh, okay. I can just set my stuff in my room and then I can help move your stuff here?" He asks me standing in the short hallway peering into the room he's claimed.

"It's fine, Bebe's home so its better if I just get a few things to last me through tonight and then I can go back tomorrow while she's running a few errands."

At that Kyle turns his head back to me, his eyes softening. "I guess that means she didn't take all this very well?"

"No. I'll be back," I say to him and leave the apartment before he can say anything more.

It's not that I really have to go back to the apartment I share with Bebe; in fact I'm avoiding the place since I really don't have want to fight. Though, I do need clothes so I make a mental note to stop at a clothing store before I head back here, as I climb into my car.

Starting the engine and pulling back into the street I realize while on the road that I don't really have anywhere to go. I don't even have any reason to leave. In the past, if things weren't going my way, if Bebe and I were fighting, if I felt lonely, if I was just bored, if I wanted to bitch…I went to Kenny's.

With my hands on the steering wheel, I lean my head hard against the chair and start to mutter to myself. "God…no, no, no….damnit!" I curse as I hit the steering will with a hand, before rubbing my eyes.

Once I've pulled into the parking lot I sit in my car and stare out at the scenery. I did not want to come to the cemetery. I don't even remember the drive here, and yet, here I am. So I might as well get out. Turning off the car, I zip up my coat before stepping out and make my way silently through the park. It's pretty cold out for it only being early December, and even so there are a few people here and there laying down flowers for the ones they've lost.

Staring at Kenny's grave I swear, "fuck. I guess I should have brought flowers or something huh?" I ask and sigh as I crouch down in front of Kenny's headstone. "Who am I kidding, you don't even like flowers…but I guess it still would have been a nice gesture."

I rush my hand through my hair before rubbing my hands together to keep them warm. "Kyle's…here. We're doing this, we're actually doing your stupid agreement. Bebe gave me hell by the way, _is_ giving me hell, so thanks…we got an apartment up on…uh, on Forth Ave. Kyle picked it out, dude you should see the kitchen. I could make one hell of a swordfish in it…oh and uh, and speaking of swordfish, guess who got a promotion? You are looking at the new head chef."

I look away and start to punch one hand against the other, sniffing a little, trying to not let anything fall from my eyes but not being able to. "I tried to call you-" I break off my sentence and that's when everything really flows. Falling back onto the ground I pull my legs close to my body and tighten my arms around myself. "How fucking stupid am I?"

I'm not entirely sure how long I stay in this state, crying, but I jerk slightly when I feel a hand rest down on my shoulder. I look up with red wet eyes at the person who has laid their hand on my shoulder.

"You okay dude?"

I've never seen the guy before, but I recognize him from when I first walked in here. I rub my nose and my face, before rubbing my hands on my jeans and standing up. "Yeah, yeah I'm…good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Who're you visiting?" He asks as he glances down at Kenny's headstone.

"He's my best friend; we were like brothers…" I say quietly looking down at Kenny. Sniffing suddenly and clearing my throat I turn back to him. "Who were you visiting?"

"My brother," he says with a slight smirk. "Third year anniversary today."

"I'm sorry," I mutter tonelessly.

"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry about your friend."

"Yeah, thanks…can I ask you a question?" I ask.

"Sure."

"Were you and your brother really close?"

He smiles and smirks as he glances behind him, presumably to where his brother is buried. "Inseparable."

I nod understandingly, "Kenny and I were too, so I guess what I want to know is from someone who lost someone really close to them like I did…how long did it take, for the…for the, for that really hard pang, that gnawing thing…in your chest to go away? How, how long did that take for you?"

He studies me for awhile not saying anything, "I think after the first anniversary. And it wasn't so much that I stopped hurting, it was just that it stopped hurting a lot. It numbed down a little and I got used to him not being around. He wouldn't want me to go on acting like he would come back anyway."

"But what if in the past he had come back?"

"…what?" He looks confused and I shake my head looking back at Kenny.

I know this guy probably hurt; I know that everyone buried in this cemetery had someone who felt pain when they left. But things are different with me. Kenny's life has always been like the kid who cried wolf, he'd die, but he'd always return. And to think that for once, he isn't it? I'm still waiting for the day he shows up at my door, telling me he was wrong, that he hasn't died for good. That it was just another fluke, another cry wolf.

Part of me, a big part of me is still hoping that he'll come back.

"I should get back home," I say to the guy who's been standing by me.

He nods, "I should too…you got a ride home?"

"I have my car."

"Okay, take care of yourself. The pain will go away you know, even if it doesn't feel like it will."

I nod my thanks and watch as he leaves for the parking lot. I only stay a few minutes more in silence before deciding it's too cold to stay any longer, even if its for Kenny's sake.

Blasting the heat once I get back inside the car, I drive slower than normal to the apartment I share with Bebe. I really was going to just buy a few things to avoid confrontation, but since I've been out later than I thought, the few clothing stores we have in town are all closed.

Arriving at the apartment I stand in front of the door once I reach it. I can hear the television playing lightly and I'm trying to decide if I should knock, or just use my key. Fuck it, I'm not going to feel intimated by her on a decision I deemed important to make. I put my key in the door and when I walk in Bebe is sitting on the couch, and looking at me. I eye her silently, and close the door still watching her.

Just get in, get out, I tell myself and head for the bedroom. "I just came to grab some things for tonight; I'll come back for the rest when you're out tomorrow okay? So can we not fight while I'm here?" I ask already in the bedroom and pulling out a duffel bag.

I don't hear her say anything and I'm not sure if I like or dislike that. I open a few drawers, the closet and toss in some random articles of clothing, not paying much attention to any of it. When I head for the bathroom to grab my toiletries and turn back to head for my bag I see Bebe sitting down at the bed looking in my bag.

She's taking the clothing that I threw in and is folding them properly before putting them back in. She looks up at me as I set the things in my arms on the bed.

"You're stuff is going to wrinkle if you just smash it in here." Bebe says softly.

"It's a good thing I have you then, it wouldn't get folded otherwise." I reply to her and she stops folding to sigh.

"Stan I'm sorry."

I'm taken aback and I almost don't think I heard right.

"It does upset me about what Kenny's doing and that we can't live together, but I shouldn't have said those things about Kenny, and I should understand that of course you want to do this last thing for him. So I apologize."

Pushing aside my toiletries I sit down next to her and grab one of her hands, "You shouldn't have to apologize. I'm the one who should, and I do. You're right...I have put him before you so many times, and I did it again even after telling you I wouldn't. I should have talked to you about it before I signed anything since this affects you too."

"But you would have signed it no matter what right?"

I can't lie to her about that. "I would have."

She takes a deep breath and I squeeze her hand, "I still want to put the wedding on hold. We can't get married during all of this."

I nod in agreement, "and I volunteer to call every single person we sent an invitation to, to tell them it's on hold for awhile."

"Every single person?" She raises an eyebrow in disbelief and I nod, hesitantly. "It's okay Stan, you take care of your family and I'll take care of mine."

"Thanks," I say with a relieved smile. "Are we good?" I ask her.

"I guess so; I can't stay mad at you over something this important to you."

"Good," I grin and lean in to kiss her. She smiles into the kiss as I rub her hand.

"So where's Kyle, I thought he flew in today?"

"He does," I say standing and putting the toiletries in my bag. "Or he did, he's at the apartment now."

"You left him there?" Bebe frowns disapprovingly at me. "Stan he doesn't know his way around and you just left him?"

"Well I had to come get my stuff, and I didn't know how you'd react."

Bebe snorts and continues folding my clothes before zipping up the duffel. "Let me grab you a sleeping bag and a pillow from the closet," she says as she disappears through the short hallway to where we keep all our extra bedding.

As I carry my bag out into the living room, I set it where the sleeping bag and pillow are.

"Its like you're going to a sleepover," she smiles.

"With a complete stranger," I say dryly.

"He's not a complete stranger; he used to be your best friend."

"Key words _used to be. _Now he's just this guy I'm living with."

"Who you abandoned in an apartment which I'm sure has nothing to distract him with."

"Kyle's a big boy, I'm sure he's fine."

Bebe stares at me silently before hoisting up my duffel and dumping it on my shoulder, and then handing me the sleeping bag and pillow. "Be nice to him Stan, I know you're hurting, and I know you still hold a little resentment toward him for leaving you when you were 9-"

"I do not hold resent-" She cuts me off as I had just done for her.

"Just be nice is all I'm saying." Kissing me she shuffles me toward the door.

"Wait, you're not helping me carry all this stuff down?"

"No way, it's too cold," Bebe says laughing lightly. "Come by tomorrow, you _and _Kyle and we can help you move all your stuff in okay? And I want to see this apartment."

"Yeah fine," I grumble. I can't believe she's making me carry everything by myself down the stairs. "Night Bee, love you." I tell her as I step out of the door.

"Love you too," she responds leaning up toward me to kiss me one last time. "Be careful driving back."

"I will," I say and head back down the stairs, dumping my belongings in the trunk and heading back toward the apartment Kyle and I have.

When I stumble back in I see Kyle sitting on the carpet against one of the walls in the empty living room typing away on a notebook computer. There are a few textbooks around him and he looks up at me before going back to typing, glancing at the books every so often before looking back at his computer screen.

Shutting the door behind me, I walk past him silently and dump my stuff in my room. Getting depressed looking at the huge empty room I walk back into the living room to stare at Kyle.

"What're you typing?" I ask finally.

"Why were gone for five hours, I just thought you were going to get some clothes," he says ignoring my question.

"I made a detour before I got them."

"A detour where?" He asks, stopping his typing to look up at me.

I frown at his face and fold my arms, "I don't have to tell you where I went, it doesn't matter."

"Fine," he says and starts typing again on his computer.

"What're you typing?" I ask him again.

"I don't have to tell you, it doesn't matter," he shoots back at me.

"Fine," I say tersely. "I'm going over to Bebe's tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff and she's going to help me move everything, you can come if you want."

Kyle says nothing.

"And I figure we ought to go shopping for some furniture, its depressing looking at this place. My voice echoes."

"Fine."

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and decide to just head to bed, only before I can even turn away from him my stomach rumbles.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too, but I don't know where I am, I don't have a jacket, gloves, hat, or a scarf, so its too cold for me to go wandering outside looking for a place to eat. I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up."

"Who doesn't have winter gear?"

"Someone brought up in California," he spits out at me.

"Don't snap at me about it, its not like you've never been here before you should have known what to expect!"

"So I didn't think about it! Don't throw this in my fucking face, you're the one who just up and left me for five hours. I didn't know what happened to you, I couldn't call you, I don't know anyone's number around here, and you could have been anywhere!"

"And I told you I don't have to tell you where I went! So I lost track of time, sorry! Like you've never done it before."

"Not when I know I have people waiting for me I haven't, and you know what, I'm not fucking hungry anymore," he nearly yells as he starts to close his textbooks.

"Neither am I!" I shout back.

In a huff, he closes his notebook and yanks the cord out of the wall before gathering it and all his books and walking into his room.

With a sneer I make my way into my own bedroom and slam the door shut. Standing at the door I look at my lone duffel, sleeping bag, and pillow. I should have brought a book or something. I quickly change into sweat pants to sleep in, pull off my t-shirt and roll out my sleeping bag, before climbing inside and attempting to fall asleep.

Damn, I can't do it. I'm too hungry!

Screw this, I stand out of my sleeping bag, toss on a shirt and grab my car keys. I'm getting some fucking food. The moment I open my door I watch as Kyle, whose room is directly opposite of mine, opens his. I stare at him and he stares back at me. He's only in a t-shirt and sweatpants too.

Saying nothing to me he walks past me and back into the living room, putting on his jacket. I follow suit silently and open the front door letting him walk past me. Locking up we make our way down to my car, where I drive us to the 24 hour diner for a late and silent dinner.

For the first time in my life, I feel absolutely no reason to make conversation with the person I'm eating a meal with. I can tell when I steal a glance at Kyle who's quietly, that he feels the same way. So be it, we'll sit here, eat shitty greasy food and say nothing to each other.

Taking a sip of OJ I'm starting to wonder if this is going to be a prequel of things to come, if that's the case I can't wait until Kyle leaves, and I can have my life back.

**Kyle**

He's such an inconsiderate bastard. I had unpacked everything I had, memorized every nook and cranny in the apartment, and even got to know the outside if the complex and where the other buildings were located and he still hadn't come back from "getting his clothes."

It's not that I minded that he took off for five hours, its that he didn't tell me he was going to take off for five hours. I would have attempted to get food earlier when it was "warmer" out and not quite so freezing had I known. I only brought a light jacket and nothing else. I really hadn't been thinking of the weather when I packed to come here. Most of my clothes are completely useless, and I realized that when I had finished giving myself a self tour of the outside of the complex.

It had only taken me an hour and half to do everything and after that I had just sat in silence in my room for awhile, waiting to hear the sound of Stan's keys in the lock. When another hour ticked by I decided that I should maybe get a head start on my online classes since I already knew some of the assignments that wouldn't be due for months.

I know I said I was going to take this semester off, but really, take off an entire semester? I am stressed, but I'd rather be a little stressed than fall behind. I want to graduate with my friends and if I don't keep up that won't happen. So unbeknownst to my mother and currently Stan I'm still enrolled at Stanford. My mother, I'm sure will figure it out once she gets the bill. I'm also sure she'll be more pleased than upset that I didn't tell her.

It'll also help pass the time while I'm in South Park. With the way things are already working out with Stan, I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot of time with myself…maybe I should get a job. I haven't decided yet, but it might help make the transition easier, I can't imagine staying in the apartment all day, only doing online classes.

When Stan finally strolled back in, I was beyond a little pissed. I was starving and instead of apologizing politely he acts like he did nothing wrong. Only the first day and we already got in a fight about something stupid. Now here we are at some crap ass diner, eating the nastiest food this little town has to offer. I cringe as I swallow something that's supposed to be a carrot. It' shrived, dry and looks unfit for pigs to consume, I eat a few more.

Not a word has been spoken by either of us, and I sure as hell am not going to be the first one to break the ice. We can live in complete silence for four months for all I care…well, okay maybe not, but I feel no need to talk to him right now.

Instead I try to think of lighter things. Stan had invited me to help him move his stuff tomorrow with Bebe, which leads me to believe that they made up. I hadn't agreed to go, but I will. It'll be nice to get out, and I do like Bebe, so I don't mind seeing her again. I guess afterward we're going to go shop for some furniture which…might be fun.

I already have a few ideas on how to decorate the place. It's a nice space and has a lot of potential and I'm somewhat excited to see if we can fulfill it. I've never had the opportunity to decorate an entire apartment before.

Yeah, shopping for furniture is going to be fun.

"You done yet?" Stan asks me coldly.

"No," I snap back at him, stabbing another hard carrot and shoving it in my mouth.

I slowly eat the rest of my plate, ignoring Stan's noises to get me to hurry up. I'm not going to be rushed just because he wolfs food down like a pig. When I set my fork down he mutters, "finally." But I simply pick up my water and start to sip it thoughtfully. The water tastes better here, probably because of the mountains.

"Okay, I'm done," I say after I've finished my water. Stan's staring daggers at me, but I could care less as I stand and head for the register to pay for my meal.

Not surprisingly the ride to the apartment is in silence, and we enter it silently. He walks into his room, and closes the door without a look or grunt in my direction and I do the same.

-

Being woken up by the cold I huddle myself in a ball trying to fall back asleep. It feels too early to be getting up. When I feel that I'm not becoming any warmer I submit to the idea that I ought to just get up. Rising from my bed, my mind blanks and a short panic fills me.

This isn't my room, why is it so cold, where am I, where's all my stuff?

…oh wait. Oh yeah, I'm in South Park, Colorado. Sighing back into my pillows, I groan into them and briefly cut off my air supply before accepting my fate. Taking a deep breath I pull myself out of my sleeping bag and dig for a sweatshirt.

Why is it so fucking cold?! Running a hand through my hair I step out of my bedroom and walk toward where the heater is. Standing in front of it I gawk at the complicated heater. Pushing a few buttons and having nothing happen I eventually give up and succumb to being cold. I'll just take a shower, and that should warm me up. Grabbing what I need from my bare room I haul my stuff into the bathroom and close the door.

Just as I start the shower I hear a knock on the door.

"What?" I call out taking off my shirt and beginning to work on my pants.

"I have to use the bathroom!" Stan calls out groggily.

I groan and clench my fist together. I already took off all my clothes, and I'm still freezing but I can feel the warmth of the steam from the shower starting to build.

"Can't you hold it?" I call out.

"No!"

"God what are you four," I mutter to myself and reluctantly turn off the shower and step back into my clothes. Opening the door I see Stan standing with his arms folded. His hair is in a million places and he looks annoyed.

Saying nothing he brushes past me and closes the door. Sighing in equal annoyance I stroll back into the living room. I might as well make another attempt to turn on the heat. Fooling with a few more buttons and not getting any results I'm starting to rethink this apartment. It shouldn't be this complicated to make heat come out of a vent. Pushing unnecessarily hard on a particular button I stop my muttered swears at the heat when I hear something.

Is that the sound of water…of a shower?!

Spinning on my heel I come back to the bathroom and frown deeply as I hear the definite sound of the shower. Is he kidding me, is he really taking a shower when all my shit is in there, when I planned on taking one first?!

I pound on the door, "what the fuck do you think you're doing, I thought you just wanted to use the bathroom!" I yell out.

Whether he really didn't hear me, or heard me and chose to ignore me, I get no response from Stan. I turn the knob and found that he locked the door. Fuming I result in standing in front of the bathroom and waiting for him to come out. When the water stops I straighten up and listening to the sounds of him getting out. The place came with a shower curtain, but there are no towels in there, except mine, and I swear to fucking god if he uses my towel I'm killing him.

"Hey Kyle you still out there?" He calls out.

So he did hear me! "Yeah, what's your fucking problem!?" I yell angrily.

"Can you get me my towel; I put one in my duffel bag in my room."

He can't be serious.

"Are you kidding me, no way! You shouldn't have even taken a shower asshole!"

"If you don't get me a towel then I'll just have to air dry and that could take awhile," he calls back out calmly.

Manipulative little shit. Hating myself for actually getting his towel I knock on the door when I have it. He opens it slightly and I watch as a hand pokes out, grabs it, and slams the door shut. When it opens again he's holding his clothes, with the towel wrapped around his waste and his hair dripping slightly.

"All yours," he says to me. He doesn't look amused, he's not smirking. He barely looks at me as he passes by and heads into his room.

Grunting back a reply I shut the bathroom door and continue with my own morning rituals. At least he didn't take all the hot water.

Once I've finished, and deposited my dirty clothes in my bedroom I walk into the living room and see Stan's eyeing the place carefully. He glances at me when I walk in, "you coming then?"

"Yeah," I say. I'm still pretty pissed at his stunt earlier, but I can't let little things get to me. Even if that was rather childish of him.

When we get to his and Bebe's place she opens the door smiling. "Kyle!" She says happily and hugs me gently. I can't help but smile back and accept the hug. At least someone seems happy to see me. "How was your flight?" She asks as she pulls me in, Stan having already walked into the apartment.

"It was dull, I slept most of the way," I tell her as she nods. "So um," I start as I rub my shoulder looking down at her. "You're not pissed about this situation?"

"Oh no, I'm beyond pissed, but what can I do? I want Stan to be happy and he wouldn't be happy unless he could do this so…I just have to take it one day at a time I suppose," she mutters to herself, as she looks down. "Anyway, do you already have your stuff moved in?" She asks as she gestures to a pile of books I can start to load into a nearby open box that's in the living room.

I crouch down and start to put in the books while she starts to pack some of Stan's clothes from a laundry basket into a bag.

"Only what I brought with me on the airplane. I shipped the rest and it should all be here by tomorrow. My car'll be here next week."

"You shipped your car?" She asks surprised.

"My mother's idea," I reply with a grimace.

Bebe laughs, "I remember your mom."

"Everyone always does," I mutter.

Bebe and I are interrupted when Stan walks in from where he disappeared in the kitchen. "Bebe where's my other filet knife?" He asks.

"It's not with the others?"

"Nope," he says darting his head back into the kitchen before looking back at her.

"Oh wait, didn't you take it in to get sharpened? It was a little dull remember?"

"Oh yeah," he says and goes back into the kitchen.

Bebe and I continue to chat good naturedly when I remember that she had classes this morning. "Don't you have classes right now, and work after?"

"I'm taking the day off, Stan's doing the same. I will be going to work after I've helped you both move Stan's belongings."

"Oh, thanks for your help, and this way we'll have all day to get furniture and stuff for the apartment…that in itself will probably take all day," I add thoughtfully.

"Not with Stan it won't. He'll probably want a bed, a couch, a television, a dining table and not much else. I let him shop with me for about an hour before I sent him home. His groaning started to annoy me. He didn't seem to want much of a say in how I decorated the place."

I laugh imagining the picture. As far as shopping goes, Stan does seem like he'd be the stereotypical male.

"Oh hey Kyle?" Bebe asks hesitantly and it's her tone that makes me stop packing to actually stand and look over at her.

"Yeah?"

"You're from California…and you seem like you have a good sense of style…"

"Yeah…?" I ask confused at what she's getting at.

She shuffles her feet slightly and brushes a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ears. "I know it's probably asking a lot of you, especially since, technically speaking we don't know each other that well, but do you or anyone you know have access to get the new BCBE Goddess dress?"

I start to chuckle slightly; I hadn't been expecting her to ask me that.

"Because I saw it in a few magazines and Kyle, I must have that dress!" Her eyes flash briefly before her face breaks into an apologetic smile.

"You do realize that's a limited piece and that there aren't many in stock anywhere?"

She nods, "I'll pay you back of course, I just think it'd be the perfect New Year's dress."

"You and about 5 million other girls," I smirk. "But unlike them, you know me, and I know a few VIP's that owe me some favors. I'll make a few calls for you, you're about a what?" I study her body for a few seconds, "a size 6?"

Nodding while grinning she leaps over and hugs me tightly, "thank you so much Kyle! The girls will die of envy if they see me in that dress!"

Laughing I hug her back and mutter in her ear, "I don't suppose you want the matching shoes?" I laugh harder when she squeals and hugs me tighter almost knocking me over. As I look up my eyes catch Stan who is standing around the corner, he's frowning deeply as he stares at us. I instantly release Bebe.

"So I will make a note to get on that," I say feeling my face redden. "I'm done with these boxes is there anything else I can pack?" I ask her, trying my best not to look at Stan.

"Hm," she says looking around. "Not really actually, Stan doesn't have that much personal stuff, and I already did a lot of packing last night and earlier this morning before you two came over. All that's really left is whatever is in the kitchen and Stan can be a Nazi when it comes to the kitchen so I wouldn't bother him in there."

"Then you can start loading things into the car," he speaks up and Bebe turns to look at him.

"Are you done in there?" She asks. Clearly she did not see his face earlier.

"Yeah."

"Okay, then," I say quickly and pick up one of the lighter boxes I had packed. "Can I borrow your keys then?" I ask Stan hesitantly.

He eyes me impassively as he drops his car keys in my hand.

"I'll join you Kyle," Bebe says looking around at the floor at all the stuff, and picking up a bag filled with Stan's clothes.

"I'll go ahead and take that Bee," her fiancée offers lightly and she smiles at him, handing over the bag.

"Okay, thanks," she tells him. "We should probably work a little faster, I'll have to leave for work soon."

Stan nods and heads out the door with me behind him. Handing his keys back to him he pops the trunk of his car and neatly fits in the bag, once done he turns to me with his arms out stretched. I look at him confused and he raises an eyebrow.

"The box?"

Oh right. Handing it to him, he pushes it to the back and slams down his trunk. When we start to head back up the stairs and I sigh and reach out to grab his shoulder before he can make it halfway up. He stops walking and looks down at me expectantly.

"Look dude, about what you saw earlier, Bebe was just hugging me because I'm going to try and get this designers dress for her."

"Uh huh," he replies dryly.

"It's true; I wouldn't try anything with a friend's girl."

"That doesn't make your argument that solid then Kyle, because last I checked we weren't friends." He turns and heads back up the stairs and walks into the apartment.

It's not that I thought we were friends, we're not. The f word sort of just slipped out without my permission. So I'm not affected by what Stan said. It was the way he said it, like it could never be, like he didn't want it to happen. Maybe I'm seeing the world with rose colored glasses but I always thought I was a pretty easy guy to like. I've never had enemies, save Cartman, and people have always gotten along with me. So I'm finding it hard to adjust to the idea that Stan doesn't like me and seems to be making a valiant effort to never like me.

Where's my old childhood buddy? The kid I did everything with, the kid who was always with me as we made fun of everybody and everything?

_You two were best buds once, be it again. At least try it out._

I can remember those words from Kenny's letter, and I honestly didn't think it'd be hard. I thought we'd be able to pick up where we left off.

"Are you going to grab some more stuff or just stand here all day?" Stan asks irritated as he suddenly reappears on the stairs. His arms are piled high with a few more boxes and he's heading back down the stairs to his car.

"Oh," I say coming out of my daze. "Sorry," I mutter as I head back up.

Kenny asked me to try, and I'm definitely not one to just give up so Stan's just going to have to deal with me as I try and find the niche we shared when we were little kids. I don't expect him to accept me with open arms, I'm not dense enough to think he would after losing his best friend, but I'm not going to roll over and let him step on me either.

As soon as everything is nicely packed in Stan's car I step into Bebe's, since Stan's is full, and we head back to our apartment. We quickly empty everything out and watch as Bebe drools over the place.

"Stan after you and Kyle are done with this agreement we ought to move into this place. It's much nicer than what we have now," she says as she inspects the cabinets.

"Yeah, and about twice as much for rent," he adds.

"Twice as much?! Who the hell is paying for all this anyway, you're not using our savings are you?!" She suddenly panics and whips around to look at him frantically.

"Of course not," he chides her.

"Then how are you paying for this place, how are you going to pay for the furniture in fact?" She questions.

"Someone else is taking care of the bill," Stan responds as he opens a box and takes out a set of kitchen knives.

"Who, is Kyle?" She asks turning to look at me and I shake my head. "Then who is paying for this place Stan?

"Bebe," I mutter softly trying to get her attention and still make sure Stan's isn't alerted.

"…Kenny's paying for it alright?" He retorts.

"_Kenny's_ paying for it," she repeats. "How?" She asks bluntly. "I thought he spent all his money on alcohol and hookers."

"It was that one time Bebe," Stan says exasperatedly. "He got a hooker once and you won't let it go. It was a dare and he was drunk and he didn't even do anything with him."

She snorts disbelieving as I try to digest the idea of Kenny with a male hooker. I think this is one of those times when you just let what you heard go.

"The point is Kenny's paying for it all," Stan finishes.

"But _how_?" She asks again.

"I'm not talking about Kenny right now, got it?" He says quietly walking into the kitchen and taking a box with him.

Bebe turns to me and I hesitate to answer. I wonder how much I should tell her. Deciding the bare minimum might be best I invite her to sit on the carpet and I join her.

"You know Kenny had two jobs right?" I ask.

She nods her head.

"Okay well, I guess he hardly spent any of his money from the day he got a job up till the day he died. He played the stock market, made some investments and overall, he did really…really well for himself. In his will he left everything to Stan and I to be divided equally and only if we live together for 4 ½ months. All expenses are paid for just off the interest he has in the bank."

"…how much did he leave you both?"

"A lot Bebe," I say firmly, making sure she knows I'm not telling her anymore.

"You're not just here for the money are you?"

"No." I say harshly shaking my head. "It isn't about the money at all. Kenny wrote me this letter, he actually wrote a letter to me and in it he explained a lot and went into a lot of things, and…from that I decided I could do this last thing for my old friend, especially since I missed his funeral and his burial."

She nods slowly, "…has Stan had any…problems at all so far?" She whispers suddenly.

I know what she means and I shake my head. "At least not that I know. He left me here for five hours yesterday when he said he was just getting some clothes from your guys' place."

Bebe grimaces, "he won't talk to me about Kenny at all; he won't talk to anyone as far as I know." She pauses, "Kyle you have to get him to talk, you can't let him shut himself down."

I find myself nodding as I tell myself not to move. Another person asking me to comfort and help a person who wants neither, especially from me. Why I am being entrusted to this role is almost beyond my comprehension. If Stan's own fiancée can't get him to open up what makes anyone think I can? I know Kenny had said he didn't think Bebe and Stan were right together, and a few times I have thought he was right in his thinking, but they don't seem like the worst couple that ever lived. They seem to love each other and I doubt I can be the safety net for Stan Kenny and now Bebe have asked me to be, but I suppose it's just another thing I'll have to try at.

"Thank you Kyle," she whispers to me as she stands. "Stan I'm leaving for work."

He comes back in the living room and gives her a short peck, Bebe gives a small wave in my direction and then she's gone. Stan looks at me questionably once the door has closed behind his future wife, and I answer accordingly.

"I only told her the basics and I didn't tell her how much he left each of us just in case she…" I trail off not being able to finish that sentence without possibly insulting Stan and Bebe.

"Just in case she suddenly adored Kenny? It's a little late for her to be some sort of gold digging whore" Stan snorts out, finishing my sentence. "Let's just go shop for some fucking furniture."

-

Why am I even surprised? Why in the hell did I think this would be any fun? Of course Stan and I have different tastes, of course we can't agree on fucking _anything_.

"We're not getting black furniture, I fucking hate black furniture," I continue to argue with Stan.

He and I have been in this huge furniture warehouse for three hours. We have agreed on absolutely nothing. Everything I like, he hates. Everything he likes, I hate. I thought for sure we'd be able to find some mutual territory but he has such bad taste, I can't even give in a little for any of the crap he wants.

"You know who buys black furniture?" I ask him annoyed. "People who never left the goth phase behind in high school, and people who don't have the ability to match colors and patterns. I am in neither of those categories of people, while you seem to be the latter. Nevertheless we are not getting black furniture!"

"You're not even giving it a chance!" He protests to me. "You took one look at it and said no, it'd go perfectly with the black coffee table and checkered rug!"

"Do you hear yourself?" I ask him in awe. "_Black _coffee table, _black _checkered rug!"

"I didn't say the rug was black!"

"But it is, isn't it?!"

Stan says nothing and I smirk before quickly scowling. "You don't even see that you're falling into the black trap do you?"

"The what?" He asks me deadpanned.

"The black trap." He still looks confused and I have to resist saying anything rude. "Its supposed to be a well known fact that once you start using or wearing a lot of black it's almost impossible to leave it behind, no matter how hard you want to use color."

He looks at me like I've lost my mind, but I know exactly what I'm talking about and I know it's true. It'd only start with three pieces of black furnishings, but before we'd know it, the whole apartment would be covered in the shade.

"Why don't we go with any of the color schemes I suggested and we can add in a black vase."

"A black vase? What the fuck do we need with a black vase?"

"I'm trying to compromise," I say starting to grit my teeth.

"Well you're not doing a very good job of it," he growls back at me.

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything," an associate says walking up to us and both Stan and I turn sharply, clearly startling the man.

"Yes!" We almost shout together, and quickly we both tell him the dilemma and of our different tastes. I watch in smug satisfaction as the man nods and smiles approvingly as at my scheme ideas as Stan tells him.

"They were good ideas, are you having trouble picking one of those out?" He asks pleasantly.

"Not quite," I say grimly. "It's between all those ideas, my ideas, verses his," I point accusingly at Stan. "He wants this black couch," I say gesturing toward it. The associate smiles.

"That is a very good piece," he says.

Stan smirks at me.

"With the black coffee table and black checkered rug," I add in, pleased to see that the man's smile is fading.

"Have either of you heard of the black trap?" He asks and I look back at Stan triumphantly.

It takes another hour and another associate but we finally pick an entire living room set, an entire dining room set and our personal bedroom sets. We leave Zanadaci's number so they can contact him about payment and we're told our choices will arrive tomorrow.

Walking back into the apartment I watch fascinated as Stan almost mechanically heads for the kitchen and opens up the completely empty fridge. I sprawl on the carpet dejectedly as I hear him release a loose set of swears.

"We have to go food shopping!" He hollers angrily. As if it's my fault the fridge hasn't got anything but cold air in it.

I close my eyes and listen as he approaches me. It's only about two in the afternoon and I'm exhausted. I never want to shop for furniture ever again.

"We have to go food shopping," I hear him mutter again. But this time he sounds as if he wants to cry over the thought. After a reign of silence between us, with me still resting on the carpet and him standing somewhere, he speaks up again, "why don't I make a list of everything I want and you can get it and whatever you want tomorrow while I'm at class and at work? I can let you borrow my car; you just have to drop me off at school. I can hitch a ride to work and for now we can just order pizza or Chinese or something? I'll even pay."

When I open my eyes I see that he is standing directly above me and that his head is looking down at me, with his hair blocking part of his face. Breaking our eye contact I look at the wall. "Okay."

"Okay," I hear him move away from me and turn to see as he picks up his cell phone from where it had been lying on the kitchen counter. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Whatever," I mutter.

"Pizza it is, what do you want on it?" I watch as his eyes slowly meet mine.

Great. Our eyes are relaying the same thing. More decisions, more opportunities to get into stupid pointless arguments.

"Cheese," I say to him and brace myself to defend my simplistic choice of pizza. My least favorite is supreme, which leads me to believe that it will be Stan's favorite, but I wont eat a slice of pizza that even has a sliver of anything besides cheese on it. I guess I could always ask for a salad.

A salad, how filling.

I watch as Stan dials a number on his cell and holds it to his ear. "Hi, yes I'd like to order a medium cheese pizza."

My eyes widen slightly when I hear him make the order, but I quickly find my voice. "Large!" I hiss at him and he nods and corrects his mistake into the phone.

"I mean a large cheese pizza…yeah, nothing else…if I wanted pepperoni I would have ordered it," he says irritated to the other person on the line. He abruptly holds his phone down to look at me, "you want something to drink?"

Of course I want something to drink; all we have here is tap water. "Root beer," I answer back and he nods.

"And a liter of root beer and that's it," he says. He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and recites our address before snapping his phone shut.

"Twenty minute wait," he tells me and sits across from me on the other side of the living room. "I've never missed seating so damn much until I didn't have any," I hear him mutter to himself as he tries to get comfortable.

As what is becoming normal with us, we fall into complete silence. That is until one of us cracks. This time, Stan.

"Are you comfortable laying like that?" He asks.

"I'm not uncomfortable," I respond. "Do you really like cheese pizza and root beer?"

"It's the only pizza I like and it's the only pop I like."

"Me too."

"There's just something about fruit, vegetables, or meat being on pizza that rubs me the wrong way."

"Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way."

From that we lapse back into silence. At one point I even doze off and am woken up by a knock on the door. I rub my eyes and look at Stan who is staring at me and I have a feeling he has been staring at me for awhile.

"What?" I ask softly.

When he doesn't respond after awhile I think he didn't hear me, but he stands. "Nothing," he says and answers the door. The pizza guy is at the door and once he and Stan have exchanged goods he walks back over and sets the pizza and root beer near me. I sit up and as he opens the box, I open the root beer. Once I have I look at it and groan slightly.

"Cups," I say.

"Plates," Stan responds.

"Napkins," we say together.

"Maybe I'll grab some other stuff tomorrow while I get some food. White plates, cups, mugs and plain utensils okay with you?" I ask him, picking up a slice of pizza and eating a bite.

"Yeah that works."

We chew quietly and continue to pass the liter of root beer back and forth, drinking from the bottle since we don't have any other options.

"How long were you staring at me when I dozed off?"

"Awhile," Stan responds, surprising me a little. I figured he say he hadn't been staring at me more than a minute or so.

"Why, was I doing something weird?" I ask him as I take a long, slightly painful drink of pop.

"No. You look really peaceful when you sleep."

My mouth pauses just as I'm about to eat another piece of pizza.

"Too peaceful, you were barely moving," he exclaims staring down at his slice. "You looked like you had died…I stared long enough till I was sure that your chest was rising and falling."

I bite into my pizza and chew slowly, "a lot of people tell me that," I respond once I've swallowed. "But Stan I'm not going to die."

He doesn't respond and instead he finishes his first slice and picks up another, eating it in its entirety without so much as a peep.

"How did Kenny die?"

Stan vividly freezes, "you know how he died." He replies coldly.

"I know it was a car accident, but that still leaves a lot of questions…" I pause. "Did someone else hit him?"

"No."

"Did he hit someone?"

"No."

"Then how did he-"

"Leave it Kyle."

"…if he didn't hit anyone and no one else hit him, what happened?"

Stan drops his pizza and rubs his hands on his jeans. "They're calling it a suicide."

That was not the answer I imagined I would hear. "A…a what?"

"A suicide," Stan says in an eerie calm manner.

"Who believes that, who is they?"

"The police. They told everyone else it was just a car accident though, since I asked them too."

"Since you asked them too?" I repeat in disbelief.

"It's South Park Kyle, people don't care about the details that much."

"Well…" I stare at him my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why do they believe it was a suicide, do you believe it was one?"

"No, Kenny wouldn't kill himself…I know he wouldn't." Stan whispers more to himself than to me. "I told you Kenny died in a street car race remember?" I nod. "He was in the lead and they were racing through the mountains…the path they took has this really sharp turn going right, and you're supposed to pull back and slow down before you take it. Otherwise you could go off the side, and at that point you're like five hundred feet up the mountain. Well, based on the tire tracks and Kenny's tires he didn't turn at all. Not because he was going too fast, he simply didn't turn. He just let the car go off the edge."

I can feel my jaw drop, and my eyes widened. "He kill-"

"No!" Stan interrupts me sharply. "He didn't kill himself, I don't care what the cops say. I knew him better than anyone. His life wasn't perfect, but he wasn't going to do himself in over it. He wouldn't do that, he wouldn't have left me like that!"

"But then how do explain-"

He cut me off again, "I don't know Kyle! I can't! I just know what happened wasn't his fault! And if you don't believe me, if you believe what the cops say, that Kenny committed suicide then you might as well get the fuck out of here right now. I'd rather forfeit this entire agreement than live with someone who thinks my best friend ended his life on purpose!"

I reach out to him to gently grasp his shoulder but he quickly jerks away, "well!?" He shouts. "Who do you believe, me or them?!"

I stand helplessly looking at him. He's breathing heavy and his face is a mixture of hate, despair and desperation.

Kenny's wheels didn't turn; he went right off the edge. Even to me that sounds like a clean cut suicide. But when I think about the letter he wrote me…it was so full of life and energy. That wasn't the letter of a guy who wanted to end his life, it was of a guy who knew his life was going to end and couldn't do anything about it.

"I believe you okay?" I tell him calmly.

He starts to calm down almost immediately, "you do, really? You're not just saying that?"

I shake my head, "I believe you. In his letter…it wasn't the voice of someone who would do something like what the police are saying he did."

Stan still looks like he doesn't believe that I believe him completely, but he nods and stares at the pizza. There's still more than half but I know we've both lost our appetites. "Don't tell anyone what I told you Kyle, not even Bebe knows, not even his parents."

I nod and watch him rest his head in his hands tiredly. "I'm going to go to bed," he says suddenly and stands, leaving me to deal with the pizza and pop. I listen as he shuts his door before taking the pizza box and putting it and the root beer inside the fridge. Leaning my back against the kitchen wall that is also shared with Stan's room I listen to his muffled tears and close my eyes as I continue to hear them. He's not being very loud and I'm sure I wouldn't even have heard him if I was in my room.

Standing here I'm trying to decide what I ought to do. Should I let him cry himself to sleep even though it's only three in the afternoon or go in there and try to comfort him? Pushing off the wall I head for his room. I guess I can at least try. I knock lightly on his door, "Stan?" I call out softly. There's no answer so I knock harder and raise my voice, "Stan?"

"Just go away," I hear him respond in a shaky voice. "I'm fine."

He knows he's lying, I know he's lying, he knows that I know that he's lying, but I don't feel like I have authority to do more. He said to leave him alone, and that's all I can do right now. Like he said earlier, we're not friends. We're just two people stuck living together in the oddest situation that have three things in common thus far: _The Cure_, root beer, and cheese pizza.

**-FG  
**

* * *

**AN: **Just so everyone is aware, it is currently December in the story. The agreement will then be completed in mid-late April. Also, **HAPPY THANKSGIVING** to my fellow Americans! I hope each and every one of you partook in gluttonous behavior! Also, one more note, this will be the last chapter for probably some time. Not 100 sure on that, but like Part I, I'd like a majority of Part II to be written rather than going with the flow, and like most of you I have finals lurking. So with that, please R & R! 


	15. Stan and Kyle II

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

Not a good morning. Waking up I'm exhausted. I shouldn't have allowed myself to fall asleep so early in the afternoon; I'll be a groggy mess all day. I pick up my cell and flip it open to look at the time. It's only six a.m. but that's fine with me, I don't need anymore sleep. Standing up slowly, trying to gain my balance I shuffle into the bathroom, and wince in pain once I've flooded the room with light.

I groan once I get a good look at myself in the mirror. While my hair is its usual mess, I look like I'm having withdrawal systems. I'm as pale as the moon and my eyes are bloodshot and the bags under my eyes look almost black. No one will believe that I got fifteen hours of sleep. Patting my cheeks, and sighing miserably I turn on the shower to start the process of looking like I didn't just shoot up.

I stand under the burning water with closed eyes, letting it pierce my skin and hair.

"_There's got to be some sort of concealer that can deal with your bags, you look like complete shit," Kenny says laughing as I sit down to join him._

"_Ha, fucking, haha," I reply._

"_In all seriousness, you really should get more rest Stan."_

"_When would I have time for that, during class or during work?" I snap at him annoyed._

"_Aren't we quick to anger this morning," he teases back, not at all affected that I snapped at him._

"_Sorry, you-know-who is back in town."_

"_Ah, how is that bitch you like to call a sister?" Kenny asks smiling. He's the only one who can get away with calling Shelley a bitch to my face. Obviously she is one, but no one has the right to call her one besides me and him._

"_She sends her love," I tell him dryly. "She'd also like for you to grace her with your presence."_

"_You can tell her I didn't steal her fifty bucks. Why is she still hung up on that?" Kenny asks shaking his head. "Even if I did swipe it, which I did not, I would have spent it by now." _

"_Note taken," I respond with my first smile of the day._

"_Jeez, don't smile when you're looking like death, it's creepy."_

_I reach out to hit the side of his head but he blocks my hand laughing. "God, I'm just kidding Stan…"_

"STAN!"

I jerk my head up in surprise, getting the now cold water in my eyes. I quickly shut off the shower and hop out, wrapping a towel around myself to help stop the shivering.

"Hey!" I hear Kyle call out. "Are you okay in there!?"

I turn to look back at myself in the mirror. Cold, wet, and death. The only three words that can possibly describe my current condition. At least I can deal with the first two. I dry off, and continue to ignore Kyle's calls through the door, but when he gets louder I finally whip open the door stopping his hand from knocking again. He looks at me surprised.

"Jesus Christ dude, I called your name like a hundred times and you've been in there for over two hours with the shower running. You didn't stay in it the whole time did you?"

I glance behind my head to get a closer look at myself in the mirror, my body does seem a little on the wrinkly side. Has it really been two hours? It felt like two minutes. I brush past Kyle, and head for my bedroom. As we don't have any food except left over pizza in the apartment I want to go to the coffeehouse real quick and pick up something to eat on the way there. Before I close my door, Kyle's hand stops it and I look at him slightly surprised. What is he following me around for?

"Dude, are you okay?" He asks concerned.

I can't begin to count how many times I've been asked that in the past few weeks. I'm not that fragile…And in any case I have to get going and he's holding me up. Closing my bedroom door I turn to my duffel and fish for some clothes. A t-shirt, a sweatshirt, jeans, and a jacket. That should be good enough to keep the cold off. I slip on my winter gear, grab my backpack and head for the living room

Kyle is standing looking at me, still in the clothes he slept in. "Are you dropping me off or what?" I ask him curiously, before I turn to grab my car keys and bend over to put on my sneakers.

"…yeah, just…let me get a jacket on…" He replies.

Something sounds a little off about his voice, but whatever it is it probably doesn't concern me. He comes back a few minutes later and we pile into my car. As we drive I point out where the grocery store is, and tell him to stop at the nearby coffeehouse.

"For breakfast," I tell him as I open the door and head for the little building. Pushing open the door of the place I'm immediately greeted by the same people who work here every morning.

"Morning Stan!" One of the barista's calls out. "Usual?"

I nod, "with a bagel," I add before heading for the cashier. About to pay I remember Kyle and turn to look at him, "you can get something if you want."

He's looking at me oddly but he nods slowly and tells the cashier he wants a breakfast sandwich and a tall complicated drink, I can't even begin to repeat. The cashier looks equally surprised and makes it known. "Who's your new friend Stan, I haven't seen him here before?"

My new friend? Kyle? I shake my head, "this is Kyle, the new roommate."

"New roommate? You and Bebe need an extra roommate? I thought you were both doing really well at your jobs?"

I shake my head again as I take my change and head for the waiting table where my coffee with be delivered. "I don't live with Bebe right now."

I can hear a few mutters of surprise, but I only grab my coffee and the bagel. "Ready Kyle?" I ask him once I see that he's gotten his order. He's still giving me a really weird look, but he nods and follows me out of the coffeehouse. I can still hear a few people asking me questions, but I do have to get to class. Back in the car I sip my drink slowly which they made it perfect as usual. It can be pretty hard to find good coffee nowadays. Harbucks just isn't cutting it anymore, they're letting their quality slip, which is why I prefer the private owned coffee places to the huge chains now.

"Stop looking at me like that," I say to Kyle as I continue to stare out the window.

I feel his gaze finally leave me and return to the road, as I direct him to the college.

"Do I need to pick you up from work or something?" He asks as he pulls into the drop off area. I open the car door and grab my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder before grabbing my coffee and bagel.

"No. I'll get a ride home. Thanks Kyle," I say closing the door, and heading for the library since I just realized my first class doesn't start for a few hours.

**Kyle**

Something is very off about Stan. I wasn't sure what I expected to find the next morning when we crossed paths. But I was thinking it would be something along the lines of a guy in denial, acting like he hadn't cried and maybe for him to snap at me for thinking he had. I hadn't expected what I seeing heading off for class.

He hasn't even acknowledged that he cried. When I got up this morning and I heard him already in the shower I figured today would be somewhat similar to yesterday. But when I knocked on the door he didn't say anything. At first I thought he was just being rude, but even after calling out, even calling out frantically, getting genuinely worried he didn't say anything.

I haven't been that freaked out in awhile, and like yesterday the door was locked, so all I could was to plead and beg him to open the door as I continued knocking, pounding and twisting the locked knob. I didn't know what to do; all I could think was what if he did something to himself in there? Or what if he slipped and fell and cracked his skull open?

Then I heard him turn off the shower. I heard the shower curtain being pulled back and I nearly screamed out his name. He opened the door and looked at me. I was frantic, and he looked fine. Not a cut on his arm, a scratch anywhere. His head was in perfect wet condition. Stan looked a little pale, and his eyes looked shrunken in, but the point was he was alive, and had ignored my shouts. I was pissed, but mostly relieved. He was okay, physically.

"Dude, are you okay?" I asked him.

I figured he'd say he was fine in that cold tone he tends to use with me, and to stop asking him that but its like he didn't even hear me. He looked right at me, not through me, but he didn't hear me. He walked past me and headed for his room. At that point I was confused I didn't know what was going on so I just waited for him and he came out eventually, fully dressed and ready to go to class.

When we stopped at the coffeehouse all I could do was stare at him, when I was driving him to school, all I could do was stare. What the fuck is wrong with him? But he even called me out to stop staring at him, and I did, before I let him leave the car.

Now I'm still sitting here, vaguely aware that I'm being honked at, watching as Stan continues on his way to class. I can see a few people greet him, and he greets them back, but there's not trace of a smile, no smirk. He just is, something is wrong, and I don't know what.

When a guy finally pounds on the car window and yells at me to fucking go, I do and head back to the apartment. I quickly shower, change and before I head for the grocery store I realize that I don't necessarily have the money to pay for the hundreds of dollars its going to cost to stock our fridge and our cabinets. I do have money saved of course, but not for it to be wasted on food. Biting my lip I wonder if I should head back to the college and try to find Stan to ask him about it.

Shaking off the idea, he's too out of it to be of much use, I sigh in annoyance at myself for forgetting Mr. Zanadaci. I have to fish through all my things before I find his card in my wallet. Pulling out my cell I dial the number for his personal line and am immediately connected to him.

"Mr. Zanadaci?" I say questionably into the phone.

"Yes, this is he, how can I help you?" He asks back.

"This is Kyle Broflovski, do you remember me?"

He laughs lightly into the phone, "of course. What can I do for you?"

I explain the situation to him and its like I can actually see him nodding his head.

"I didn't realize you were in South Park already. Do you know how to get to my office at all?"

"Yeah, I think I could find it, and Stan left me his car too."

"Wonderful, stop in and I can give you something that can take care of such payments."

"Great, thanks," I tell him and snap my phone shut.

When I reach his office, a secretary waves me into his office and I knock before entering and seeing the older man who's smiling.

"Welcome back to South Park, Mr. Broflovski!" He says warmly, and gestures for me to take a seat on the chair opposite his desk. I do so and smile back weakly; "it's Kyle." I mumble as I get comfortable.

"How was the trip here?" He asks as he opens a drawer in his desk extracting two small credit cards and handing them to me.

"It was fine, what're these?" I ask looking down at the blue cards.

"For purchases; I want you and Stan to credit it all to the cards. I get the bill and I'll take care of the expenses. It'll make things less complicated for all of us."

"Oh, good idea," I mutter as I pocket them in my wallet.

"How are things with your new roommate so far?" He asks me leaning into his desk chair cheerfully.

At his question I sigh and slump my shoulders, "they could be better."

"Oh?" One of his light gray eyebrows raise in question and I nod grudgingly.

"We're not exactly picking off our old friendship like I thought we would. Yesterday we went to pick out furniture you know?" I ask him and he nods.

"I got the bill," he states.

I grunt a response before speaking back up, "we couldn't agree on anything at first, we were there for over four hours! And the only reason we were finally able to pick anything is because we were mostly just exhausted from arguing and allowed two associates to pick everything out for us, save our own bedroom sets."

"So you don't have furnishings in common, that's nothing to get horribly upset over. My wife and I had our own adventure picking out our first pieces together," he smiles as if remembering.

"Yeah, but before that when I first arrived here he left for five hours without calling me. I was a little worried, and then the next morning he steals my shower without so much as an apology and then when I'm at his and his fiancée's place to help him move he gets all hostile on me when I hug her. It was just a hug and I didn't mean anything by it. Then after the whole furniture nightmare when we got home I asked about Kenny, and he just…he just lost it." I muttered quietly. "I wanted to help him, but he…I guess he just wanted to be alone to deal with it. And then this morning he acts as if nothing ever happened. In fact he's acting so weird today. Almost in this daze, he's not responding when I talk to him. Yesterday he would at least snap at me and now he's just…" I trail off releasing a loud sigh.

Mr. Zanadaci has been looking at me quietly and when he finally moves it's to lean over to the side of his desk. I watch silently as he pulls open a cabinet to reveal a hidden fridge. He hands me a bottle of water and I take it gratefully.

"Kyle it sounds like it's just a bunch of little things, and if you're already letting them get to you now, how will you survive four months of it?"

"I know," I breathe out.

"As of now its best to remember that Stan is still hurting, very much. His moods are going to be all over the place, and while it isn't okay for him to lash out at you, I know you understand where all the emotions are rooted from."

Nodding I take a long sip of the mountain water.

"You're doing fine so far, at least you haven't decided to throw in the towel."

"I wouldn't do that," I mutter.

"Good, Stan needs someone stable."

"He has his fiancée."

"Indeed, but I'm sure he'd like some stable male companionship. He did lose a tight one, and from what Kenny had always told me they did most everything together as friends."

I say nothing, not wanting to burst Zanadaci's bubble that Stan doesn't want my friendship. "I should get going," I say standing. "I have to get that food, and then our furniture arrives some time today as does all stuff that I shipped here."

"Of course, take care of yourself Kyle. Though, if you do need anything else you can call me."

"Thanks," I say without a smile and leave his office heading immediately to the grocery store Stan had pointed out to me. The second I get there I realize Stan never made me a list of what he wanted. Sighing I rub a hand through my hair and grab a cart. Looks like we'll just have to eat whatever it is that I like. Going through the rows I try to think of the food I'd seen Stan eat.

It wasn't much. Pizza, sandwiches, and a bagel. Perfect. I try and rack my brain to remember what Stan ate as a kid, but that's such small details that I really can't remember.

"Oh well," I mutter to myself as I start to pile in all my favorite foods, crossing my fingers that he'll like some of them, any of them.

When I'm done I head for the checkout line and start to place all the groceries on the track. As the cashier begins to scan all the items I avert my attention to the last minute things they also have at the checkout stand. Trying to decide whether I really need gum or not I start to become aware that someone is staring at me. Glancing up I look around at all the people in my vicinity. It doesn't seem that any of them are paying any special attention to me, so shrugging my shoulders I grab a few packs of mint gum and toss them on the track, waiting for the total.

Handing over the new credit card Zanadaci gave me I help the bag boy load in all the groceries into three carts. Maybe I went a little overboard on food. As I get the card back, and toss the receipt in a random bag I start to ponder if all this will fit into Stan's little car. Here's hoping, I thought as two other employees help me push the carts into the parking lot and help me load everything in. We have to adjust a few things, but we manage to pack everything tightly inside the car, while leaving me enough room to breathe. I can't really see out of the back window, or a few of the passenger window's but that's okay.

Tipping each of the guys who helped me, I stop one of them before I climb back in the car, "hey do you know if there's like a Ballgreen's around here?" I ask him. I need to get some cheap stoneware, utensils, and appliances. I also want to see if they have any winter gear. It probably won't be particularly from this season's fashions, or soft for that matter, but as of now I'll take anything. I'm freezing with only this little jacket to keep me warm.

"We don't have chains around here, but there's a private owned drug store down the street. Just three blocks, and it'll be right on your left, you can't miss it," he tells me.

"Thanks," I say and climb back into the car, heading for the drugstore. Once there I grab a basket and quickly scour the shelves and get a set of plates, utensil, cups, a coffeemaker, blender, toaster, and a few other random appliances I don't exactly recognize, but figure Stan might be able to use. I also grab a cheap and itchy looking pair of gloves that comes with a matching scarf. I make a mental note to call one of my friends and have them ship me something I can stand to look at.

When I get to the apartment I load my arms with bags and heading toward the apartment I notice a large truck parked on the side of the road.

"Shit," I curse to myself as I hurry up the stairs. As I approached the door I see a man just about to knock on it.

"Hey," I say to him as I set the bags down to open the door.

"Are you Stan Marsh or Kyle Bro…brooflow..-"

"Yeah, that's me," I cut him off annoyed. Opening the door I toss in the grocery bags before turning back to him.

"Just sign here and initial here," he tells me.

I do so and look at him expectantly. "Is it okay if we move everything in now?" He asks.

"Yeah of course," I respond. "Do you need any help?"

"Nope," the man says closing his folder. "Just tell my guys where to put everything and then we'll be on our way."

I nod and watch him disappear down the steps before starting to empty the few bags of groceries that I have and stop rather soon when someone knocks on the door. It's still wide open and I look expectantly at the man in a brown uniform.

"Kyle Brofloo…um,-"

"Yes!" I say exasperatedly. "What are you carrying?" I ask him and watch his face turn to one of confusion.

"I'm not carrying anything at the moment; I just need your signature."

"I already gave it," I tell him wearily.

"For your packages?" He asks looking around confused.

My packages? Oh!

"Oh, sorry, here," I say taking the clipboard and scrawling my signature. "How many boxes are there?" I ask in concern of my shipped belongings, trying to remember how much I decided to bring with me.

"Ten."

What the fuck did I pack?!

"Can I bring them up?" He asks.

"Yeah, just,-"

"Excuse us!" I hear someone say loudly and glance behind the postal guy to see two men carrying the couch. He steps out of the way and allows the men to get by. "Where should we put this?" The same guy asks as they maneuver their way into the apartment.

"Anywhere in the living room is fine," I say gesturing toward it. "Just don't block the window," I add in as they set it down, doing almost that. "Ugh, sorry what were you saying?" I ask the postal delivery guy.

"I wanted to know if I could bring the boxes up now?"

"Um," I look as the movers head back out and see a few more coming up the stairs carrying a wrapped lounge chair. "Can you come back?"

The delivery guy doesn't look amused, "no."

"Fine, bring it up then, just watch out for the movers."

He clicks his tongue before turning and barely avoids getting knocked over by a mover, as he heads down the stairs. As I direct the guys on where to put the chair I start to think quickly over what should go where as I try to recall everything Stan and I decided on. After a few hours of directing furniture throughout the apartment while running up and down the stairs myself to empty the car, and thanking everyone I slump into the plastic wrapped chair and look over at the mess. None of the furniture is in the spots it should be, most of it is wrapped in plastic and tissue paper.

The groceries that aren't perishable are still resting on the kitchen floor and when I walk into my room I see boxes littering the floor and boxes on top of furniture. Stan's is the same minus the boxes and I have to climb and slink around things to get through the hallway.

Grabbing an apple from the fridge I stop to think of a plan of attack. It's probably best to start with the living room since it's the biggest disaster area. Pushing up my sleeves and brushing a few strands of hair from my face, I bite into the apple and start to peel off plastic and tissue paper.

By the time I'm done unwrapping, rearranging, adjusting, and setting up I'm drenched in sweat and am panting. I arranged the whole apartment, even Stan's room. I'm sure he'll just move everything anyway, but I can't stand the thought of one room being in disarray while the others are in perfect condition. I've even unpacked my boxes and my room looks like a real live, lived in room. The kitchen is set up and I somehow managed to make everything fit in the fridge and the cupboards…granted I had to be a little creative in the placement of certain items.

Peeling off my clothes, I decide I need another shower and its when I go to take a shower that I realize what I didn't buy. Body wash, toothpaste, towels, and every other thing that needs to be in a bathroom and laundry room. We don't actually have a laundry room, its just one of those closets that open up the have a washer and dryer, but the point is as of now we can't wash anything.

Groaning in annoyance I decide I don't care and jump in the shower. Both Stan and I had brought small sizes of those sorts of things and I have enough of the bathroom necessities to last a few days. There is no way I'm going shopping again today. When I step out and start to towel off I hear the sound of the front door being closed.

Running my towel slowly through my hair to dry it off I call out, "Stan?"

Nothing. But then again he wasn't exactly in a talking mood today. Wrapping the towel around my waist I peer out of the bathroom and see him standing in the living room just staring at…what looks like nothing.

"Dude what are you doing back here, I thought you went to work right after class?" I ask approaching him still in my towel.

He glances over at me but doesn't say anything before looking back ahead. I turn to see what he's looking at and I see it's the black vase I ordered anyway. It's the only black thing in the entire apartment.

Still not saying anything to me he walks by me and stops when he looks into his opened bedroom door.

I scratch the back of my ear in worry. Maybe I shouldn't even have touched his furniture. Maybe I should have just left everything packed for him to deal with.

"What's that smell?" He asks quietly and I look around confused.

"What smell?" I ask back walking to his side and sniffing the air. "I don't smell anything."

My face reddens when I see him lean closer to me and sniff, "it's you." He mutters.

"Oh," I rub my shoulder and step to the side slightly. "It's my body wash."

"What is it?"

"Mountain Air Breeze."

He grunts softly before walking into his room and shifting through his duffel which I had set on his new queen sized bed he had insisted upon. I'm surprised it fit so nicely into the room, I had thought the double I got would be too big, but I underestimated the true size of the bedrooms.

When he turns back to face me I see he has a folder in his hand. "I'll be back at nine," he says quietly he looks past me and walks out of the bedroom.

He's still acting like he's in a daze and just as opens the front door again I find my voice, "the furniture came," I state the obvious, but he hasn't commented on it at all, and I spent hours putting everything into a proper place.

"I'll be back at nine," he repeats and closes the door.

Exhaling slowly I head into my room to change before reemerging and looking at the apartment now that it's filled. I like it, a lot. The picture window really brings in the natural light and this apartment really looks like the sort of place I see myself living in permanently after college.

While Stan's at work I decide to work more on my online classes and eventually I fall asleep in front of my laptop where I was typing up a paper on the new lounge chair. When I wake up I think because I heard something but looking around I see nothing unusual. Saving my paper and shutting down my notebook I glance at the time.

It's almost nine thirty, Stan should be back by now.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I see him sitting quietly at the four person dining table we got.

"Jesus Christ!" I swear, forcing my heart rate to slow down. "Fuck, you scared the crap out of me," I say to him, putting my notebook aside to stand and stretch. "When did you get home, how come you didn't wake me?"

I stare at him when I'm done stretching. He's bent over slightly rubbing his temples in slow repetitious circles. I approach him slowly and carefully. Stan doesn't say anything to me and he doesn't even look up as I walk closer to him. When I reach a foot within him he adjusts himself and I freeze watching as he leans back into the chair resting his head at an awkward angle against the hard cherry wood chair so that his face is forced to look directly up.

Eyeing him I see that he's wide awake and blinking but his eyes don't move from our smooth white ceiling.

"H-how was your day?" I ask whispering.

Nothing. He doesn't move an inch. He doesn't acknowledge that I said a word.

"Stan?" I call out his name just as quietly.

I'm unsure of what I should do. At least when he was crying he was getting out his pain, but this…this zombie thing he's doing? I don't like this at all.

"Do you…are you hungry?" I try again. No response.

Well food is supposed to be a comforting thing for people right? When anyone dies in our family, we bring the mourner food. So that's what I'll do, I'll make some food. Feeling a little less worthless now that I have a plan I open the cabinets and stocked fridge. Since it's almost ten at night, a light meal would probably be best.

Opening the freezer to pull out a bag of pasta, I then rummage through the spice rack I got and try to remember what my mom uses when she makes her pasta from scratch. Randomly grabbing a few spices that look like what my mom has used I fill a pot with water and set it one the stove top to boil. I take the frozen pasta and toss it in the new microwave and set it at a random time to thaw.

Waiting for the water to boil and the microwave to stop, I sit down slowly across from Stan who still hasn't moved from his position. The most of his movements are blinking and even then its only half blinking, like he can't be bothered to fully close his eyes.

Resting my head on my hand I continue to watch Stan's silent behavior trying to decide what to do about him. Leaning over the table slightly I kick his leg under the table, but he doesn't even bat an eyelash.

"Christ Stan this can't be healthy," I mutter to him before sighing.

I look at him expectantly but am not surprised when nothing comes out of his mouth. "…oh and, you never made me a list of what you wanted from the supermarket so I just got what I liked…but I got a lot of different food so hopefully there's something in there that you'll e-"

"What's that smell?" He suddenly speaks up and I glimpse at his face. It hasn't changed, his face is still blank and it's still resting against the edge of the chair, but I did hear him talk.

"What?" I asked again to verify.

"That smell?" His head moves and he's looking at me abruptly, his nose twitching slightly. "What is it?"

"Wha-" I jump out of my chair, ignoring that it fell to the ground to sprint over to the stove top. The water's boiling over and it's getting everywhere. Once I've turned down the heat I smell a slight burning and know automatically it's what Stan had sniffed in the air…but I haven't cooked anything…

Oh shit, the microwave! I turn and see Stan opening the door only to widen his eyes and close it straight away. He whips his head over to me, "get me a rag!" He shouts and I quickly comply, opening a bag filled with unused ones before tossing them at him.

He opens the door again and starts to pat down the small fire that I created by placing the foil covered frozen pasta in the microwave. Once it's out and the smoke is wafting in the air, I open a side window and look at Stan who's still staring at the microwave. He turns slowly to face me his face blank and unreadable as it has been since he's been home.

"…who…in the _hell _puts _foil _in the microwave?!" He suddenly yells at me accusingly.

"I didn't know it could catch on fire!" I manage to stutter out surprised that he's talking again like normal.

"It's common knowledge!" He stands to brush past me and looks in the pot. There's still water everywhere from it having boiled over, and he turns to look back at me with his eyebrow raised in disbelief. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

I huff in annoyance, "I was making pasta for us. You weren't responding to whether you were hungry or not and I supposed it was because you were depressed or whatever and my family always make food for the depressed!"

He continues to stare at me in silence for a moment before saying anything. "Why were you heating up the pasta in the _microwave_?" He asks.

"Because it was frozen."

"…why?"

"What do you mean why? Because it was in the freezer."

"You put _pasta _in the _freezer_?"

I look away briefly and bite my lip, "I bought a lot of food today and we…sorta ran out of cupboard space but we still had a lot of freezer space…I had to get creative."

Stan tilts his head slightly as he continues to view me with a perplexed stare, "you go to Stanford?"

At this I frown and fold my arms, "where else could I have put everything?"

"The counter."

"I don't like counters cluttered with food," I respond irritated as I take out a new bag of pasta from the freezer. "Do you want some or not?"

Stan gently takes the bag out of my hand. "Why don't _I _make us something to eat? You can start cleaning up the microwave you almost destroyed."

My frown deepens as I watch him open the freezer and shake his head as he looks at the various foods that I also have stored in there. "I'm taking a lot of this food out of here. If you don't like the look of a cluttered counter don't come in the kitchen for awhile," he says to me as he starts to pull things out.

Once he's done I start to clean out the microwave and he wipes up the water that had spilled from the pot. When I finish I throw myself in a dining chair and watch Stan expertly boil the water and deal with the pasta. As he opens a cupboard I watch his eyes widen and then only get wider as he continues to open every one of them, and the fridge.

"Did you buy the entire supermarket?" He asks wondrously still looking at all the food.

"You didn't make a list and I didn't know what you would like…so yeah I pretty much bought a little of everything."

Stan turns to give me a look I can't read, but he doesn't respond and goes back to the pot of pasta after closing all the cupboard doors.

"…so what was that?" I ask him after awhile in silence.

"What was what?" He asks as he takes a fork to pull out a string of pasta to taste.

"The daze you came out of and have been in all day?"

He looks over at me as he turns off the burner and sets the pot aside, "I was thinking...that's all," he responds. I wait for him to expand, but he doesn't naturally.

From my spot on the table I watch as Stan drains the water and tosses the pasta in a bowl with a lid before adding in a ton of spices quickly and some liquid I don't get a good look at before shaking it all violently together. When he's done he sets two large helpings on two of the new plates I got and slides a plate over to me with a fork and an individual can of root beer he fished from inside the fridge.

As I bite into what looked to be an easy dish to make, my mouth waters at the taste and I realize this is our first home cooked meal in the new place. I point this out quietly to Stan.

"Guess so…what happened to all that leftover pizza by the way?" He replies to me after taking a few bites and nodding to himself. He's clearly pleased with what he made.

"I gave it to all the movers."

"Movers?"

"Yeah, the guys who moved in all our furniture. My boxes even came too."

Stan suddenly stands up and drops his fork. He walks slowly into the living room and looks around and it occurs to me that this is the first time he's really "seeing" the furniture even though he's been out of his daze for awhile.

"I spent all day moving things around…hope its okay," I mutter out as he continues to walk around at everything. He even walks into down the hall, in my room, and in his before coming back out into the living room. "Well what do you think?" I prod for an answer. "I've never arranged furniture before."

"I like it," he says simply and sits back down at the table. "I can't believe you still ordered that black vase though."

I shrug indifferently and we fall back into our usual silence when we have nothing more to say to each other. I suppose all in all today wasn't that bad. Stan's earlier behavior frightened me at first, but I guess like Zanadaci said he'll go through a lot of moods, and I guess I'll have to adjust to them all.

I groan softly, "what does that mean for tomorrow?"

"What?" Stan speaks up.

"Nothing," I respond shaking my head. Three days down and only some 130ish to go.

**-FG**

**AN: **Few notes before I forget. One, if you ever want to know the status of this story or of any story I write check my bio. If all else fails, I update that once a week. Two, check out the Kenny art by Jean Powell who was somewhat inspired by a previous story of mine. It may not be art for this story, but it's a pretty damn nice picture of Kenny smoking. The link for that is also on my bio.

Some of you may have noticed I started a new story. It's going to be short (2-3 chapters) and won't interfere with this one.

Thanks for the reviews, you're all so wonderful!


	16. Kyle IV

**AN:** BAH! OMG! I'm sorry everyone! Ahaha, I went to post chapter 17 and I realized I hadn't even posted chapter 16 yet! I knew I had forgotten to do something last week. :D

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

Stan is already gone when I'm up. I'm assuming he's at school, and I'm assuming I won't see him until he gets out of work, which means I'm alone for twelve hours with no car. Walking into the kitchen in just my sweatpants I'm pleased to feel it isn't freezing and that Stan must have turned on the heat before he left.

As I'm about to open the fridge to eat something I see a note filled with chicken scratch left on the kitchen counter.

_Made you a few raspberry crepes and sausages for breakfast. They're in the fridge; just heat the crepes in the microwave for 45 seconds, 45 SECONDS with a PAPER TOWEL covering them. The sausage needs to be heated on a hot pan for about 30 SECONDS. If that seems too difficult for you just stick it in the microwave for 45 seconds. _

_I also made you a chicken salad for lunch; mix it with the left over pasta. DON'T HEAT UP THE PASTA! Just mix it all together the same way you saw me mix the ingredients in the bowl last night._

_I'll cook dinner when I come home tonight. For the love of _God_ Kyle don't cook while I'm not there._

_Stan_

At first I was a little happy that Stan was thoughtful and kind enough to make me breakfast, but as I continued to read the letter my hand started to shake and my brows started to crease in anger. I know how to heat shit up in a microwave and I know how to read fucking directions!

Crumbling the note in my hand I toss it on the floor, realizing we don't have a trash can.

So I boiled over water and set a small innocent fire going on in the microwave, why does that mean I can't cook? Okay, so in reality I'm not the best cook. It's not something I ever really picked up with the way my mother always shooed me out of the kitchen. But I can heat food up.

Grumbling I open the fridge and do exactly as the directions say, triumphantly sitting down at the table when everything is heated to perfection.

Eating quietly I'm aware of how quiet and lonely this place is when there's only me inside. I don't want to do anymore school work, I'm already bored of it. Maybe I'll take a walk and see what I can remember. I think Stark's Pond is somewhere near here; maybe I'll try to find it.

An hour later, I'm showered, dressed, with my sunglasses resting on my hair and am walking in the direction that I hope the Pond's at. When I end up making a left turn and see that it's downtown South Park I frown. Obviously I went the wrong direction, but since I'm here I might as well take a look around. It's late morning so while the streets aren't buzzing with activity they're still relatively busy.

Falling into step with a few other pedestrians it's hard for me to pretend I don't feel the looks and that I don't hear the whispers. I suppose I got it at the grocery store too, but at the time I was more concentrating on what foods I thought Stan would want to eat. Now that there isn't anything to distract my attention I'm remembering how much I stand out.

I know South Park is all about comfort and warmth and less so about style and fashion, but I think this is a little ridiculous. Stan may wear the same sort of things everyone else around here does but he still stands out too. At least to me, and he doesn't get any constant looks. He's a little bit taller than the average citizen, he even has an inch or so on me, and his jet black hair is a complete contrast to the white snow, and with his piercing blue eyes…he could wear a white t-shirt and jeans everyday but he would still look better it in than most people I know. I'm sure if he tried to have a sense of style he'd do well in California.

Ducking into the nearest building to avoid the stares I sigh as I wait and loiter around a little bit before jumping in surprise when someone says something to me. I turn my eyes to the girl and ask her to repeat his question.

"I said do you know when our order is going to be ready cutie?" She asks me.

Huh? I look around a bit closely at my surroundings and see that I've placed myself in Cherry Kiss, the restaurant Chef owns. I don't see him anywhere and beside the girl and me no one else is standing. I guess I might sort of look like a waiter.

"Oh, I don't work here," I say and peer back outside to see if the majority of the crowd around me as continued walking by. Seeing that they have I give the girl a small smile, and rub my hands together in my new cheap gloves before I make a move to step back out.

"Kyle!" A different lower and more masculine voice calls out. I turn and see Chef wiping his hands on his apron approaching me with a smile.

He first turns to the girl telling her, her order will be ready in a few minutes before she nods, winks at me, and heads back to her own table. Once she's seated I see her and her friends instantly start talking as they look back and forth at each other and me, giggling. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I can still feel a little heat rise in my face.

"Hey Chef!" I say to him cheerfully, turning back to the man in front of me.

"What in blazes are you doing back in town? I thought you lived in California?" He asks me ushering me further into his place without me being completely aware of it. He sits me down at a small table only meant for two and starts to fill me up a mug of coffee. "Boy, you look like you're freezing." He adds after looking over me.

"I am a little cold," I admit with a small smile. "Thanks," I add once he's finished filling my cup. I grab a hold of the condiments, beginning to make use of them. Trying to see if I can create my favorite drink with the limited supplies he has on his tables. "I'm here for a few months." I say and frown as I take a sip of coffee. It is definitely not what I was going for.

"A few months? What on earth for? And you know, I didn't see you at Kenny's funeral," he starts when someone walks from the back of his kitchen, waving him over. "Kyle I've got to get back to work, but you stay put, order anything you like, it's on the house."

I nod in thanks and watch him trudge to the back of his kitchen. Continuing to sip my coffee silently I watch as Chef goes back and forth from taking orders, helping to cook, bringing out orders, and checking on people. Just like the last time I was here, I feel a slight sense of ease. The place isn't overly crowded, but is enough so that I know it's well liked and it brings in an eclectic crowd.

There are moms with their children, people on lunch breaks, teenagers; it really has brought in everyone. Not that I'm surprised, Chef has a good menu. Some classics and a bunch of things I know must be his creations given the names.

"Hey mind if we join you?" I look over behind me when I hear the same girl's voice from before. Turning I see her with her two friends who are all smiling at me.

"Um," I look at the one other available chair at my table.

"Don't worry about that sweetie, we don't mind getting a little close," one of the girls says. They all giggle as they pull up nearby chairs and sandwich around the little table. "I'm Mercedes," the same girl adds with a short wink at me, flipping her blonde hair.

"Lexus," says one with reddish brown hair.

"And I'm Porscha," says the last girl who's hair color reminds me of Stan since it's such a deep shade of black.

I give them a small smile, "Kyle." I tell them as I look at them closely. They seem a little familiar, but I can't place it and they don't seem to recognize me, so it probably isn't important.

"We haven't seen you around here before," Mercedes says to me.

"Yeah, I…just got into town a few days ago."

"Aw, are you only passing through?" Lexus asks with a small pout.

I hesitate a moment, "I'll…actually be living here for awhile."

"That's great! There aren't a lot of attractive guys around here, but you are definitely attractive," Porscha says to me and I start to laugh feeling a little more comfortable.

"Did you three used to be Raisins girls?" I ask them through my laugher. The way they talk reminded me of where I'd seen them from in the past.

"Oh my gosh how did you know that?" Porscha asks wondrously.

"I came through a few times when I was younger, and even when I moved I never came across another restaurant quite like Raisins," I tell them honestly.

"Here you go girls," Chef interrupts us as he tries to fit three plates on a table only meant for two.

"Thanks Chef!" They say together cheerfully. I look at their plates and scrunch my eyes together. They all ordered the same thing, a plain salad with literally just the leaves and tall glasses of water. There isn't even any dressing.

"I see you girls are quickly snatching up Kyle even before he gets settled," Chef chuckles and the girls laugh.

"He's a hottie Chef!" Mercedes starts, "and he used to be a customer!"

"You should totally hire him for your waiter position, I'd come everyday if it meant I got to be served by him," Lexus adds with a purr. The girls start giggling again as I feel my face heat in embarrassment, but something they did say caught my attention more than the up front flirts.

"You're looking for a waiter?" I ask him curiously.

He nods, "yeah, can't you tell? This place is getting too busy for me to do everything and a waiter would probably bring the business up another star..." He looks at me curiously, "you interested in a job Kyle?"

I _had_ been thinking about getting a job, and while a waiter isn't my first choice the selection of jobs around here probably isn't very diverse. And with this job I could work with Chef, and catch up with him. He was always like an older brother, a sexually driven older brother, but an older brother nonetheless, and sometimes he did pick up the father slack my dad sometimes fell behind in.

"Yeah," I finally say to him. "I'll only be here for four and a half months, so I'd understand if hiring me and then training me would be a bit of a pain in the ass, but I know I'll-"

"You're hired," he says to me, and I gape at him in surprise as the girls squeal in delight around me.

"But, but, an interview…or something?"

"Nah, I've known you since you were a kid, I trust you. You can start tomorrow if that's okay?"

"Oh, um, sure," I say trying to get a few thoughts in order. I've never waited on people before, I don't know if I'll be any good, but Chef seems confident enough.

"Great, come by at 7 tomorrow morning and I can have you fill out some paperwork and then I can start you on training right away," he pats me hard on the back. "Glad you're back in town Kyle."

I give him a warm smile. "Thanks," I tell him before he walks off to head to another table.

"How exciting!" Lexus states, "An adorable waiter, we should go tell the other girls about this afterward!"

Mercedes and Porscha nod in agreement at her after giggling. I chat with the girls for a little while; they're not half bad, even if they don't lay off the flirtation. I don't mind it really and flirt back with an ease I've gotten accustom to over the years. It's all in good fun and for everyone's enjoyment and I'm actually a little disappointed when the girls stand to leave.

"Well we've got to be off cutie, but we'll be back tomorrow to see you again," Mercedes says giving me a wink. I'm a little startled when each one gives me a kiss on the cheek before giggling and walking off together. When they've reached the front door Mercedes stops and turns back to me.

"Say sweetie why aren't you wearing a heavier coat and more fashionable accessories? Aren't you cold?" She asks me loudly so that her voice carries.

"I don't own anything heavier and this is all I could get on such short notice." I had already told the girls I was from California, which had earned me a few squeals of excitement and approval.

I watch as the she rolls her eyes at me playfully, "well do yourself a favor and go shopping for some good stuff, in the mean time," she digs through her huge tote purse and pulls out a cashmere wool scarf and gloves before handing them to me. "Here." She says.

"What's this?" I ask, looking at the items. They're much thicker than what I got at the drugstore and they look and feel pretty expensive.

"What's it look like darling? Scarf and gloves. It comes with a matching hat but it would be such a shame to cover up your gorgeous hair. They were going to be a Christmas gift for my brother, but you'll look way cuter in it. Keep it."

I give her an odd look. Who goes around giving their presents to strangers? Granted I guess I'm grateful, but at the same time we don't know each other that well. I look at her questionably as I hold the items.

"Don't worry about it cutie, and if you really feel a little bad for accepting them you can always give it back when you get a better set okay?" She asks cocking her head to the side with a gentle smile.

"Okay," I say nodding. "I'll probably do that then."

"Whatever you like," she tells me and turns back to where the other two are waiting for her.

When she reaches the door they all turn to wave at me, "bye Red!" They say together before they walk out of the door.

Red?

As the crowd starts to dispel Chef walks over to my table to remove the dishes the girls left behind. Once he's left them in the kitchen he comes back to sit at one of the seats. "Okay Kyle, let it out. What are you doing moving back to South Park, don't you have school?"

I give him a small smile and let out a short quick laugh, "I am in this agreement," I start and lean back in my chair to tell him the gist of my situation with Stan, created by Kenny. "So I've been here for a few days now," I finish explaining. "Pretty insane huh?" I ask tracing both my hands through my hair at the same time, showing my own slight distress over the ordeal.

Chef opens his mouth to say something but then closes it thoughtfully as he looks away to study something I can't see. I watch him shift in his chair and raise his arm as if he's going to put in his opinion, but then lowers his arm. "You know Kyle," he starts, only to quickly stop. "Sometimes," he starts again but he shakes his head as he folds his arms together. "Well good luck," he finally gets out and stands. "Don't forget to be here tomorrow at 7," he tells me as he heads toward the front to take an order.

"Sure, 7 it is," I tell him resolutely, standing. I give him a brief wave before walking out of Cherry Kiss, and back onto the streets I had been trying to avoid earlier. My stomach rumbles the second I leave, reminding me that I haven't eaten since breakfast and I never ordered anything in Cherry Kiss. That though, I did on purpose, since Stan had made the effort to fix me lunch.

Chef's lack of advice surprises me. But I don't think I really wanted advice, it was just nice to tell someone from South Park who isn't already directly involved about this whole situation. Going back to the apartment I whip up the lunch, with Stan's directions and once again sit in silence to eat it. I nod firmly to myself. It's unquestionably a great idea to get a job. Being alone for all hours of the day in this place would drive me nuts, and getting out in the town today only proved to me that no matter where I am, I like being in a social gathering. Waiting patiently for Stan to come home every night, is definitely not a role I want to fulfill.

"What's your problem?" Is the first thing Stan stays to me when he comes home late from work.

I've sprawled myself on the couch, with one arm hanging off.

"I'm starving," I mutter to him, my head in the couches pillows. My stomach has been rumbling for hours but every time I got in the kitchen to eat something Stan's note jumped out at me. Well that and that oddly enough, I either didn't buy anything that could be readily eaten the way I like it, or I simply couldn't find it. Everything is so tightly packed that I didn't want to bother digging for anything.

"Why didn't you _make _anything?" I hear him say.

I slowly raise my head from the couch knowing something is wrong with his tone. I peek over the couch and watch him throw his jacket on the ground and practically rip off his shoes. He dumps his school bag on the floor and stomps into the kitchen, tearing open the fridge causing me to tense at his actions.

"…because I can't cook anything and your note said not to cook," I spit out, remembering the note in the first place. I decide not to tell him of my laziness factor in his current state. I sit up and look over at him as he slams the fridge shut.

"Do you normally let yourself starve and what are you looking so pissed about?"

My jaw hangs a little bit. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I find myself responding out.

"Kyle, do yourself a favor and stop prying into the details of my life, I don't want you here, and so I might as well stop pretending I do."

I jump up from the couch tightening my fists, "what did I do wrong?" I growl out.

Stan suddenly sighs and rubs his temples, "nothing. It was a bad day. Sorry."

I nod in acceptance of his apology and slowly sit back down, before hesitating, "do you want help with making dinner?"

"No," he seethes out.

"Fine," I mutter quietly to myself.

When dinner is finished we sit at the table in the same spots we did last night. I guess we've established who sits where now. I serve myself a helping of a side dish and am about to give Stan a portion since he's holding something else when he swats my hand away.

"I can do it myself," he scowls at me.

"Sorry," I mutter and set the dish down letting him do what he wants. Biting into my food I sigh in contentment and hold in a moan of approval. Even if Stan is a bastard he can still cook up one hell of a meal. "So how was school?" I ask.

"Fine."

"What about work?"

"Normal."

"What's normal?"

He shrugs.

I clutch the fork in my hand harder. "Well…what caused your mood?"

"Nothing."

Nothing? Nothing caused his mood? He's angry on a whim, because he felt like it?

"Did someone piss you off at work?" I prod.

"No, but right now _you're_ pissing me off, can we just eat in silence?"

If we had a clock, or if there were crickets in South Park, they're clichéd cricking and ticking would be the only sounds right now. And I know he's getting rather fed up with me, but I can't help but wonder…

"…did someone say something about Kenny?"

I jump in surprise and fright when Stan slams down his the glass he was holding. Part of it breaks in his hand and I wince when I see a little bit of blood. He stares at me hard and I swallow a lump in my throat, "Jesus Christ," I mutter to him. When he blinks he looks over at his hand as if just realizing what he did. Letting out a strained sigh he stands and heads for the bathroom.

While he retreats I give him a little time to calm down before I push away from the table and head to the bathroom myself. The door is wide open and Stan's in front of the mirror looking at himself. The hand that got cut is hanging in the air and the other is supporting most of his weight as he leans toward the mirror watching his reflection.

Turning to head back into the kitchen to grab a napkin, I come back to the bathroom to see that he's moved to sit on the toilet.

"I brought you a napkin," I say dully holding it up to him. Not saying anything to me I bend down on the floor and pick up his bleeding hand. He winces slightly at my touch, but doesn't move his hand away. "We don't have any band aids or anything," I tell him as I gently pat the cut after examining his hand and determining that there's no glass in it.

"Stay here," I say standing and heading back to the kitchen to grab the entire bag of napkins and going back into the bathroom. Stan hasn't moved, not that I thought he would, and I kneel back on the floor after wetting a napkin and ringing out the excess. I clean the cut with water before drying it and putting presser against it to stop the bleeding. Holding my hand on his I glance up at him, he's looking down at me tiredly.

"Can't you stop that?" He asks suddenly, his voice echoing in the bathroom since there's nothing to absorb his voice.

"Stop…what?" I ask confused.

"Acting like him."

There's no need for me to ask who he thinks I'm acting like.

"Always asking me how my day went, and actually looking like you care what my answer is. Looking so concerned over everything I do, compromising, and being polite to me when I'm an ass to you, and then turning around and yelling at me when I yell at you…taking care of my cuts…who are you trying to be? Are you trying to be a friend? In his letter to you, did Kenny ask you that? 'Be Stan's friend, he'll need it?' Or did Bebe ask you? Or did they both ask you?"

I check Stan's cut to see if it's stopped bleeding. It hasn't so I reapply the pressure.

"They both asked you," he answers for himself.

"Don't you think you're overacting a little bit?" I ask him quietly as I keep my head down. "Yes, they both more or less asked me, and do you know why?" I raise my eyes to meet him. "Because they both care about you." I want to rub my eyes in exhaustion but the last thing I want is to show Stan how tired he can make me.

"I walked downtown today," I start up again with a fresh and completely different topic. "I went into Cherry Kiss, that restaurant Chef owns, and you're looking at its new waiter. I thought I might as well get a job since I'll be here for so long, it'll give me something to do all day. I start tomorrow. I've never done anything like waiting before, but…it shouldn't be too hard. Oh, and the strangest thing, do you remember the Raisins girls? Hmm," I pause for a minute thinking over them. "You probably do, since they do live here, anyway three of them were there. Mercedes, Lexus, and Porscha, and actually," I laugh a little bit. "I think I like them, they're nice girls. A little overzealous in the flirtation area, but still really nice, and their personalities haven't changed much at-"

I stop when I glance up at Stan again. He's closed his eyes, and I don't think it's to tune me out. I watch as a single tear drips from his eye and rolls down his cheek. I silently reach up with my free hand at an attempt at wiping it away when his other hand suddenly catches mine and stops it from doing so. When he opens his eyes they're bordering on becoming red, and are moist.

Once he's taken a huge deep breath and releases my hand he looks at me. "Let's just get this out okay Kyle?"

I wait expectantly for a statement I know I won't like.

"I don't want another best friend. I don't want you here. To be blunt, I don't like you. It isn't just because you act like Kenny, it's because you think you can leave your old best friend, forget about him, and then come back as if nothing has happened. I guess Kenny's letter never mentioned this but, I hold grudges Kyle. My biggest one…is against you."

Standing up, causing me to lean back slightly he leaves and I hear him go into his bedroom, closing the door. I look around at the bathroom. I'll have to clean up the napkins, the broken glass, and food we left on the dinner table. Stan didn't finish his again, and I didn't finish mine.

I've always seen myself as a strong person, but I think that no matter who you are, it'll hurt if someone you're trying to get along with you tells you they don't like you to your face.

When I had left South Park 11 years ago, I missed all my old friends like crazy. I was angry at my mom for so long for taking me away from them, I especially missed Stan. It was my dad who had suggested I invite him over to spend a week with us during the summer. I had been gone from South Park eight months then, but when Stan came it felt like I had been gone much longer. At the time I had already gained a few friends, nothing like the guys I left behind, but I still had wormed my way into a clique.

Before he came I told all my new friends all about my old friends. I told them all about Stan in particular, since he was my best friend. Of how we did everything together, I even told them of some of the adventures we had. Canada, the Rainforest, Iraq, military interventions…I told them everything. They were awed and that made me feel proud of my best friend, they were especially impressed when I told them how Stan had a girlfriend, even if he and Wendy were off and on. They had been as excited as I was to have Stan come to California and when he did…the second he stepped off the plane…. It was like I was staring at my cousin Kyle and not my super best friend Stan.

When had Stan looked like that? I had asked myself. Did he always look like…the words _'a hick' _rang in my head. I looked down at myself as Stan greeted my parents and Ike. I was already well immersed in the Californian culture. My old hat, the gloves, the jacket, it was all already gone. I threw it away after my first day of school in California. Everything I wore now was from a popular designer and I thought I looked great.

I didn't want Stan to meet my new friends. That was my thought as he greeted me with a smile, a half hug and a, "hey dude! Fuck it's been way too long!"

The entire drive home I was a nervous wreck, I had told my new friends to meet up at my house and then right after we would all go out to eat or something. Stan had been chattering good naturedly about everything I was missing in South Park, but I hadn't been listening. I was watching the road, for the first view of my friends, hoping that maybe they forgot about this. I didn't get that sort of luck; they were hanging out on my porch near the side walk when my parents pulled into the driveway.

Stan was asking who they were as he opened his door and I pretty much held my breath as they got a first look at them. Stan acted like he always did, said hey to them and introduced himself. They hesitated and looked back and forth at each other with glances at me before they introduced themselves as well.

We went to eat, went to the beach and showed Stan around a bit. At the time I was relieved I figured they did like Stan and saw the qualities in him that I had always seen. But when Stan excused himself at one time to go the bathroom the talk began, and what I had feared was realized. They didn't like Stan, if anything they thought he was a funny little freak show who didn't know anything about the real world. That entire week I sort of agonized over what they said about Stan, but of course I didn't tell him.

As far as I know he had a great time and he said he couldn't wait to come back again, but that next time I should come to South Park. He wanted to alternate the trips.

Our distant friendship went back to its usual letters, and phone conversations until my family moved to another area in San Francisco. For whatever reason we weren't able to keep the same phone number, and the only way Stan would know it…would be if I called.

But I didn't.

I still got his letters since they were forwarded, but I didn't respond to them. The letters were the same as usual, asking about how California was. He even asked how my new friends were. He'd fill me up on the usual South Park gossip, but then after awhile the letters stopped mentioning that sort of content. At first he was asking if I was okay, if my family was okay, he sounded a little panicky in those letters. But eventually he was asking why I wasn't responding to his letters and what the fuck my problem was. Then those sorts of letters became scarce and the last one I got from him was on one page and written in huge black letters that said: YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!

As far as he knew I could have died and that's why I wasn't responding, but Stan knew me and he rightfully accused me for what I was. After that letter I told myself I would call and explain to him. I always told myself that, and I always said I would call. But then a year went by, then another, then five, and then eleven and I never called him. I didn't have the balls to after a point in time. I had kept putting it off for so long that after awhile I wished I hadn't put it off at all and wished I had called after that first year. Yeah, he might have been pissed, but he would have gotten over it, because that's the kind of guy he was.

But after eleven? How do you get over that?

I suppose you don't.

-

The next day I'm up and out earlier than Stan for my first day at Cherry Kiss. The actual restaurant doesn't open until eleven a.m. but Chef wants me to fill out the necessary tax forms and to get me familiar with what I'll be doing. Throughout the day I make a few mistakes, but nothing to want me to rethink my new position.

Like they promised yesterday, Mercedes, Lexus, and Porscha return and they order the same thing I noticed they ordered yesterday. Chef doesn't seem at all displeased with me when Lexus yanks me down to sit with them for a little while and chat as they eat, nevertheless I'm quick to apologize to him, which he waves off laughing.

"As long as they buy their meals, and don't completely stop you from doing your job I don't mind. And maybe you should try that approach with the other customers; the girls got some jealous looks when you sat down with them."

"Really?" I ask looking around seeing that maybe Chef is right.

I'm not exactly shy, but I am a little nervous seeing as how I've never done anything like this before, but I try to be as laid back with the other customers as I was with the girls and am satisfied when it seems my attitude is being well received. There's countless flirts in my directions as I take orders and deliver them. Winks, blushes, numbers given, giggles, even a very soft whistle when I walk by a particular male customer. That, I choose to ignore, but I do have to sprint quickly to the back room before anyone sees my own blush, after I've been so calm about all the other flirts.

Chef pats me on the back laughing as I take a deep breath. "If you're going to work here you're going to have to get used to this sort of treatment Kyle. You've become South Park's own celebrity and males alike appreciate an attractive face and attitude."

Nodding, I take the order for table three and head back out to the main floor. It isn't that I haven't ever been hit on before by my own sex, quite the contrary, it's that I've never been blatantly whistled at by my own sex.

The rest of the day goes by just like my first hours but eventually we're ready to close and I sigh into a chair as Chef locks the door.

"That was exhausting, how did you do all that yourself before?" I ask him as he pulls down the shades.

"You get used to it, not to mention I never had to deal with the not so discreet commentary," he turns and grins at me. "Think you want to keep doing this day after day?"

I don't even hesitate to nod with huge smile, "yeah, I think I do."

A week later, instead of being woken by my cell phone alarm, as I've been getting accustom to since I have work, my actual ringer wakes me.

"Happy Hanukah!" I hear the ring of excitement from my mother, my father, and Ike once I answer my phone.

I rub my eyes and glance at the clock. I thought it was supposed to an hour earlier there.

"Hap…py Hanka…" I mumble back

"Oh Bubbalah wake up," I hear my mother's clipped voice. "We all know you're not a morning person but you haven't called anyone since you've been there."

Because I'm practically twenty and I don't need to check back with my parents, is what I don't say. No reason to get her in a tiff so early in the morning. I sit up and rest my back against my headboard before yawning loudly.

"Oh really Kyle, don't yawn into the phone it's rude," I hear her say. I blink back the tears the yawn created and rub an eye. "Anywho sweetie, your father, Ike and I sent you a Hanukah package, there's even a little menorah. It should arrive today, this way there's no reason not to have your own personal little celebration."

Before I can open my mouth to reply she keeps talking, "well we really only called to give you the greeting, but your father and Ike need to get to school and work and Ike insists on talking with you."

"Then put him on," I mumble tiredly and listen as there's an exchange of hands with the phone.

"Kyle?" I hear my little brother's voice.

"Yeah, whadda want?" I snap out. "But first how could you let mom call me so early in the damn morning?"

"You know she does what she wants," he whispers into the phone, which means she's listening in on his end. "Anyway, I just want to ask how you were doing over there? Is Stan your old best friend again?"

Ugh. "Not in those exact words Ike. Anything else?"

"Yeah," there's a pause in his conversation, and I hear the shut of a door. I'm guessing he walked away from my mother to get some privacy. "When are you sending me that snow? Were you saving it as a gift for Hanukah? Is that why I haven't gotten it yet?"

Oh for fucks sake, I groan, "no Ike, it just slipped my mind. But I'll get on it for the eighth day okay?"

"Okay," he grumbles, clearly annoyed. "I have to get going, but have a good Hanukah!"

"Yeah you too," I mutter out and snap my phone shut, crawling back under my covers for a few more hours of sleep.

When my actual alarm wakes me up I go through my usual routine and shower before eating breakfast. Once I'm in the dining room I see Stan left a package on the table that has my name on it. It looks like the package my mom was telling me about. Opening it as I eat I pull out the little menorah, and a couple other holiday treats and things she packed for me. Appreciating the gesture even if I didn't tell her I did, I set up the menorah on my windowsill so that I can light it tonight.

I've never been alone for Hanukah before and it's a weird thought to know that I'll be doing everything by myself. Looking for my car keys, I hum a Hanukah song, as I head out for work. Having decided to drive today, I got my car a couple days ago, I park in the back where the employee parking is located and head in with the keys Chef gave me. I don't see him right away but I can hear the cook, Mike, in the kitchen. Punching in, I grab the Cherry Kiss apron I have to wear and head toward the front to see if Chef is out there.

"Hey Ch-" I see and stop when I see the place. Chef had already put up his Christmas decorations even before I started working here but now I'm watching as he pins up a final Star of David, before he steps back to look at everything. He turns to me.

"What do you think Kyle?"

"It's…surprising," I respond and look over the newly intermixed Hanukah decorations. I give him a warm smile, "thanks Chef, this means a lot to me."

"Didn't want you to feel left out with Christmas coming up."

I shrug, "I'm used to it though," I say as I start to take the chairs down from the tables.

He grunts something, "take a look at the menu," he says and I glance up at it.

"You added Sufganiot and latkes…" I say softly, before looking back down at him. Of all the customs of Hanukah, the eating of the traditional food was something I didn't think I'd be able to partake in. My mom hadn't sent me any seeing how they're meant to be eaten fresh and I wouldn't dare to ever attempt making something that has to be made in hot oil, and of course…I won't ask Stan. "Thank you Chef, really, thanks…" I say again.

"Don't start crying with happiness about it," he laughs. "We have to finish setting up."

I nod, and take another glance at the menu before going to work on the opening duties.

"What's a suffganout?" Porscha asks confused as she glances at the menu, having seen the difference.

"Sufganiot," I correct her as I write down their usual order. "They're jelly donuts fried in oil, and latkes," I press on before Lexus can ask what they are. "Are fried potato pancakes."

"Why's it all fried?" Mercedes asks scrunching her nose together at the idea of eating fried food.

I raise an amused eyebrow, "because its tradition Hanukah foods and we eat them in remembrance of the miracle of oil that lasted eight nights."

The girls look at me confused, so I sit down, scooting Mercedes over to briefly explain Hanukah.

"Gosh, you're Jewish, wow that's so cool!" Porscha exclaims.

"You know cutie, you don't look very Jewish," Lexus says to me thoughtfully. "Aren't they supposed to have really huge noses?"

"That's a stereotype," I almost snarl at them. They look taken aback and I stand. "Sorry, I'll get your orders…do any of you want to try them?"

"No thanks," they say together.

"…what if we all split one of each?"

The girls exchange looks, "…you'll eat it with us?" Mercedes questions slowly.

"Sure, since it's not too busy right now."

The girls look back at each other and I sigh with a smile as they whisper amongst themselves. "Okay," Lexus says as they break. "We'll have one suv-stuf…well you know what they are sweetie."

Nodding with a smile I turn and bring the order to Mike before heading for a few other tables. The girls aren't the first ones I explain the two new foods too, I practically explain it to every single customer and surprisingly, most are willing to give them a try, especially after I mention that I'm Jewish. I don't know if they're trying to please me or what, but it does make me feel happy knowing I'm sharing a little bit of the customs of my religion with people born and bred to think red, white, and green.

When Chef calls me to take my lunch break I immediately dig into what Stan left me, swallowing a huge helping of it when my cell phone rings. Thinking its Ike I let it ring awhile longer before bothering to glance at it. It's not a number I recognize but I answer it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Happy Hanukah Kyle!" Says Bebe's chipper voice.

I chuckle, "thanks Bebe, I didn't know you knew the date."

"I looked it up! How's your day going so far?"

I look outside toward the main floor and take in the decorations, the people eating the fried foods, and of all the laughter. "It's going really well. How is yours?"

"Busy! I only called to say Happy Hanukah."

"Thanks," I respond genuinely impressed with her. "You really didn't have too."

"I wanted too, you are the only Jewish person in South Park, and I didn't want you to think anyone forgot about you."

"I don't feel that way at all," I say watching as someone in the front eats a bit of latkes for the first time. His face contorts to disgust and I laugh.

"What's funny?" Bebe's voice asks confused on her end.

"Nothing really."

"Oh, well you'll have to come by sometime soon. I haven't seen you since the first day you came here."

I pause at her invitation. Doesn't she know how strained Stan and I are right now? "Yeah…" I finally say indecisively.

"Wonderful! Then I'll talk to you soon Kyle!"

"Sure, thanks for calling Bebe."

"No problem, bye!" She hangs up before me but I do so after, setting my phone carefully on the table I'm eating on.

How little is Stan telling Bebe? Does she really not know that Stan and I haven't been…

I sigh. If I think about it, it'll only ruin the rest of my mood, and with everyone being so kind and adventurous today I don't want to get down. Shaking my head slightly to not think about the thoughts that bother me every time I'm in the apartment, I finish my lunch, and head back to work.

**-FG**

**AN: **Again sorry about that, I'm sure certain people want to choke me. Thanks for all the reviews though everyone! There are some new people reading and that makes me really happy!


	17. Kyle V

**AN: **Stan is next chapter, promise. :D I am THRILLED that everyone liked the last chapter, especially since I was a little unsure about it as I posted it.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**  
One week later…

I'm almost amazed at how well things are going at Cherry Kiss; I really love everything about it. The customers who I've started to really enjoy talking with, Chef as a boss, the pay, and it's so nice to have my car here. Now I don't have to walk everywhere unless I want to, and I've been able to get the extra accessories for the apartment that were needed from the start, like bathroom supplies and a trash can.

I even bought a black afghan for the couch. It clashes horribly, but I wanted to make another quiet attempt with Stan...I haven't gotten any response on it…

Also while I wouldn't call them friends yet, Mercedes, Lexus, and Porscha are constant regulars and I see them everyday. Even on the rare tough days they have a knack for making me smile. People that regular Cherry Kiss are starting to know me and I'm actually learning names and recognizing faces. I'm memorizing what people usually have and Chef says I have a knack for this.

Though I wouldn't go as far to say that my career resided in being a waiter, it's nice to have a job I'm good at and to get out of the apartment…especially since going there is the shittest part of my day.

After that night Stan cut himself with the glass things only got worse. What he said really hurt me, but I wasn't going to let it get me down. Part of the reason he was so bitter was because of me, and while I think an eleven year old grudge is a bit much, I want to work through it.

But Stan isn't having it. The atmosphere is horrible at home; we don't talk to each other. At all. I mean, I barely have the guts to even look at him. We avoid one other's gaze, we walk past each other like we don't know one another and yet, we still eat dinner together. He still makes them, but I don't ask if he wants help. I just let him do it on his own. I don't ask how he's doing and I've stopped asking him about his day. When I steal glances at him at the dinner table I can tell what sort of mood he's in. If he's especially pissed, if he's in a daze, and I can always tell when he's been crying. But I don't point it out anymore.

It's unbearable. I can't stand living like this, but I don't know what to do.

Presently we're eating the usual dinner, something delicious he's cooked while we eat in complete silence. I haven't told anyone at Cherry Kiss how things are progressing with Stan. Eventually, like I always knew it would, word got out about Stan and I and what we were doing and why. I get constant questions about it but I act cheery about it, no one really knows how it is.

As I work to push a few mushrooms off the lasagna Stan made, there's a knock on our door. We both freeze, and for the first time in two weeks our eyes lock, but we quickly look away.

I'm the closest to the door so I stand and walk warily toward it. Stan and I never get visitors, probably because we've never told anyone where we live. Only Bebe knows, and she always calls before she drops by. I've still never met any of Stan's friends, I'm starting to wonder if he has any.

I peer out the peep hole and mutter a quiet, "huh?" before opening the door. I'm not looking at him, but I can tell Stan is leaning over the table slightly to see who our visitor is. "Mr. Zanadaci," I say as I let him in, closing the door behind him quickly to block out the cold draft.

"Good evening Mr. Broflovski, Mr. Marsh," he says nodding in Stan's direction when he sees him. Stan stands up and approaches us.

"It's Kyle, and can I take your coat?" I ask him and he smiles.

"Yes, thank you," he responds handing it to me.

"I did tell you could call me Stan, Mr. Zanadaci," Stan corrects him. "Did you want some dinner? We have extra," Stan asks and at that Zanadaci sniffs the air after laughing gently and looks at our plates.

"Ah, I love the smell of lasagna, I may have to intrude on your dinner and take a piece. I've only just left the office." He says.

"You're not intruding at all," Stan replies smiling, something I haven't seen since when I first moved in here…

Stan sets a plate for him and we all quickly sit back around the table, both Stan and I look at him expectantly. I'm not sure about him, but it's nice to have a third neutral party; to hear another's voice and not the sound of silence. The tense air has been lifted with Zanadaci's arrival and I find myself sighing in relief.

"Well then, you boys seem to be well established. The apartment looks magnificent. You boys have quite the flair for interior design!"

The tense air returns as Stan and I try not to look at each other. Mr. Zanadaci doesn't seem to notice as he continues looking around.

"And my, I love that black vase!" He adds.

I clear my throat and speak to another live person for the first time in my own apartment in weeks, "not that we mind your company Mr. Zanadaci, but…what are you doing here?" I ask him.

He laughs after taking a sip of water, "where are my manners? I really should have called in advance. Remember when I told you boys that Kenny asked for me to check up on you every so often?"

I nod remembering and watch as Stan does the same.

"So…what do you do? Do you ask us questions or something?" Stan asks slowly.

"It's not to be an interrogation," he says still smiling. "I see you boys have done pretty well with living expenses though. I haven't gotten a bill for anything these past couple weeks."

"How could you get a bill?" Stan asks confused and I suck in my breath through my teeth. I've _completely _forgotten to give him the credit card Zanadaci gave us. "I've been meaning to call you about that too, about how we should go about paying for everything," Stan continues after a pause.

Zanadaci turns to me quizzically before looking back at Stan, "I gave Kyle the credit cards."

"Credit cards?" Stan questions more, and I feel his hard gaze on me.

"I, yeah…I'd forgotten to give you yours, but it's on my dresser, I'll just…" I stand and head for my room grabbing Stan's card and bringing it back setting it on the kitchen counter. He glances over at it before frowning.

"How long have you had those?" He asks me.

"…about two weeks," I mutter and poke a mushroom.

Stan makes an annoyed sound but he doesn't say anything more. The air is getting thicker, luckily Zanadaci does sense this, but unfortunately he doesn't ask the right questions to clean the air.

"I am curious…how have your first few weeks together been? Are you both getting a hang of your old friendship now?"

"Not exactly," Stan scoffs out.

"...I see," he says quietly. "Stan, how have you been...emotionally?"

He shrugs, "okay. I mean…" he begins as if he'll start talking about it, but then he stops and glances at me. "I'm okay."

Even with Mr. Zanadaci here, a silence looms and we all go back to eating for awhile. After everyone has finished their plates, Zanadaci speaks up before I can grab a hold of the dishes to start washing them.

"This may be a little bold of me to ask, being in your apartment but I wonder if I could speak to the both of you individually, and for maybe the other to…take a walk around the block while I do so?"

Again, Stan and I exchange looks, we both nod in agreement.

"Kyle could I talk with you first?" He asks, looking at me. I nod and set the plates in the sink before following Zanadaci into the living room. Stan is putting on his jacket and is eyeing us carefully.

"Only ten minutes or so Stan, and then you're more than welcome to come back," Mr. Zanadaci says and Stan nods before grabbing his keys and leaving.

I sit on the coffee table while Zanadaci makes himself comfortable on the couch.

"Mhm, rather comfortable," he mutters. "Happy Hanukah Kyle," he looks up at me with a smile and I nod my thanks before I wait patiently for him to ask his question. "Tonight's the last night isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"How have you been?"

"…okay. I got a job at Cherry Kiss, I'm a waiter. Have you heard of it?"

"I believe so…the one on the main strip downtown?"

"Mh hm," I nod.

"And how do you like it?"

"It's excellent," I say grinning. "I'm surprised I like it. I didn't think I'd enjoy serving people at all. But the customers always have stories to tell me, and my boss there was an old adult consultant for me when I was little."

"Wonderful, does anyone know of your situation with Stan?"

"Yeah, it got out." I shrug, "we knew it would."

"And what do they think of your progress together?"

"…"

"Kyle?"

"I tell them things are great between us."

"Okay, now tell me what's truly going on?" He asks seriously through his black rimmed glasses.

My shoulders immediately slump and I let out a long breath. "Nothing," I say dejectedly.

"Nothing?" He raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah, literally nothing. Until tonight, we haven't spoken a word to each other, or even glanced at each other in two weeks."

"I think you're exaggerating," he says to me.

"I wish I was…awhile ago, Stan told me flat out that he didn't like me, and that he didn't want my friendship and that he didn't want me even being here. He said part of the reason was because I acted like Kenny, the other part, I think a bigger part, is because he holds this grudge against me."

"A grudge against you?"

"Yeah, for ditching him when we were nine. I got him so upset he broke a glass in his hand and cut himself."

Zanadaci is looking at me closely; I'm thinking it's to see if I'm full of shit. "And you say since then you haven't acknowledged each other's existence until this very night?"

"Basically."

"You know this wasn't Kenny's intention, for you two to fulfill the agreement while ignoring each other don't you?"

I look around helplessly before faltering near him, "well what am I supposed to do? He said he didn't like me and that he wished I wasn't here, what do you…how do you get past that? I'll take whatever advice you have because living like this fucking sucks."

"Language Kyle," he mutters thoughtfully. "After that night when Stan cut his hand what did you two do the next morning?"

"Nothing," I say lifting my hands slightly. "I didn't bring it up, and neither did he."

"So you both, just out of the blue stopped talking? Stan didn't say he didn't want to hear your voice, and you didn't tell him that?"

"No."

"Then _Kyle_, what has stopped you from talking?"

"Mr. Zanadaci, I just told you he said,-"

"I know what you told me Kyle, and I know…what he said must have hurt. You may be tolerant of Stan's actions but you're not immune to his words, I understand that, I do. But one of you, and I doubt its going to be him, needs to be the bigger person. Stan says he doesn't like you, but that's the nine year old in him talking, not the nineteen year old. You can do this Kyle. He is going to kick and scream at you for as long as he can, because he's hurting and now you know all the reasons why. Try to remember what your parents did for you when you went through a tantrum over something that hurt you. Not over something you selfishly wanted, but over something that hurt you emotionally or physically, and try that. Also I want you to reread Kenny's letter. I'm sure you haven't thrown it out, so read it again, and try and figure out why you decided to do this in the first place, all right?" He asks just as a key is placed in the lock and is slowly opened.

"All right," I say miserably just as Stan opens the door.

"Done?" He asks hesitantly from behind the door.

"Done," Mr. Zanadaci says as he looks at me curiously. I nod in agreement and stand. Stan and I walk past each other and exchange looks, I'm the first to look away so I can grab my coat and keys. Heading for the door I watch as he oddly enough takes the same position I took, sitting on the coffee table. "Ten minutes Kyle," Zanadaci says to me and I nod closing and locking the door behind me.

**-FG**

**AN: **In my freshman year at university my roommate and I got into a huge fight and we seriously acted like Kyle and Stan for two weeks. We didn't LOOK at each other. It was complete hell, and I had NO idea why we werent talking. So, yeah, this part is based on true events.


	18. Stan IV

**AN:** I'm sorry everyone:( I know everyone is frustrated at how slow this is going. Chapter 18 and still nada. Le sigh, well…I guess I can cut some things I originally had planned, and skip over a few weeks…I'll have to partake in some rewriting, but it's doable. :). This is also why chapters are getting longer, because if they weren't we'd be at chapter 25…which we very well may still get too, and will most likely surpass. :D

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Great Expectations _written by Charles Dickens.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

Sitting down on the coffee table across from him my eyes are on my hands. I have a few ideas of what he might ask me, and even though I have no obligation to answer them I think I still will.

"…how are things with you Stan…honestly?" Mr. Zanadaci asks after we've already wasted a few minutes of him staring at me silently while I stared at my hands.

Twisting my fingers slightly in anticipation I look up at him. It really is uncanny, the similarities between him and his younger bother, my boss.

"I'm…dealing." I respond. He says nothing but he eyes me with a patient face. He's waiting for me to expand on my answer. "In my own way," I finish.

"Then, you've been talking with your fiancée about this?"

"…I don't think Bebe wants to hear about it."

"Really?" He asks surprised.

"…I _mean_ I don't want to tell her about it."

"Why not, she's going to be your future wife soon."

"…I like to deal with these kinds of things alone, Mr. Zanadaci. I'm capable of dealing with things alone."

He bobs his head slightly, in a way that shows me he could believe me, but that he doesn't. "What exactly is your method? I'm curious…do you visit his grave everyday? Leave flowers? Or do you pray once a day in hope that he's found peace in the afterlife? Or maybe you talk to your friends about it and find comfort in doing that?"

"…I don't need to talk to friends, I'm fine alone, and…I wouldn't visit his grave everyday, and…Kenny wasn't particularly fond of flowers…he was allergic to most." I watch as Mr. Zanadaci takes off his glasses and rubs them slightly, getting the tiniest bit of lint off the lenses before slipping them back on.

"Okay, so you've found a way to deal with your grief…how are things living with Kyle? I couldn't help noticing the strain at the dinner table."

"…," I sigh. "Kyle's interfering in something he doesn't understand. He didn't know Kenny."

"Interfering? Isn't this what Kenny wanted, an intervention by him?"

I shake my head slowly, "sometimes I don't get Kenny. He knew all there was to know about me, but sometimes…I didn't know what he was thinking or why he thought that way. He should've known how I'd feel about this."

"And based on everything he told me, I'm assuming he did. It didn't stop him though did it? Creating this elaborate plan to get you and Kyle to spend time together," Mr. Zanadaci asks softly.

I shrug my shoulders and look at Zanadaci, "but why? He mentioned Kyle a lot before he," I lick my lips. "Before the accident…but it was all out of the blue. A few weeks before the accident, Kyle hadn't been mentioned in…God I don't even know how long. Why now, why put me through this?"

"Do you really think he's done this to hurt you Stan?"

"I know he hasn't."

"Then why are you treating Kyle like your own personal dart board?"

I snort, "is that what he told you?"

"More or less, I added in the simile myself, but even if he hadn't told me…I can see something is off about him. Regardless that this whole mess is based on an unfortunate accident, I can see that Kyle was a normally cheerful person."

I stretch a few fingers to avoid talking for a bit, "I don't know if he told you…I said some things to Kyle a few weeks ago…some pretty mean things. I guess they were a little uncalled for."

"Oh?"

I eye Mr. Zanadaci carefully. His face is slightly blank; I can only make out a hint of curiosity. Maybe Kyle didn't tell Zanadaci what I had said to him two weeks ago. "Yeah. I told him I didn't want another best friend, that I didn't want him in South Park, and that I don't like him very much. I also mentioned that the reasons I didn't like him were because he acted like Kenny and because he abandoned me when we were kids."

"Is all that true?"

I squirm slightly on the coffee table. I'm not sure why I decided to sit here, it isn't very comfortable and even though I chose the more casual position I'm the one feeling restless. "I thought you said this wasn't going to be a goddamn interrogation?" I answer back.

Zanadaci smiles at me but doesn't say anything to or against my question.

"The last parts are true," I mutter to him. "He does act like Kenny…which I know is dumb. He acts the way he acts, he can't help that. But I can freely admit that his leaving me when we were little has kind of… made me a little bitter towards him. I should be over it now. If he hadn't had left, I probably wouldn't have known what a great friend Kenny could have been for me, and there's no way I would trade those years of friendship with him for anything. But for some reason Mr. Zanadaci what Kyle did hurt me and it still does. I don't know why." I rub my face in my hands suddenly. "Maybe I should see a shrink…because of my repressed anger and all that shit…"

"It's all true," I continue after a second or two in thought. "I didn't say all that from a burst of anger. I don't want another best friend, I don't want him here and I don't like him. It's childish, its wrong, and even Kenny would lecture me over it, but it's how I feel. I can't imagine feeling any different about the situation than I do now."

"Yet you two eat dinner together," Mr. Zanadaci points out. "Kyle's told me of your silence toward one another, how you avoid each other's presence. You've told me how you feel about all this, but you still cook, and you still eat together."

"I like to cook," I say plainly. "We both like to eat."

"You don't have to eat together."

I start to tap a finger on the coffee table. It's been over ten minutes and Kyle isn't back yet. I shrug my shoulders, "I don't really have a response for that," I say in reply to his statement.

Mr. Zanadaci suddenly stands, "Stan you don't have to be his friend, you don't have to like him and you don't have to want him here. But you have to be civil; you don't get to take out your anger and your pain on him. Kyle hurt you, and now you're hurting him. Do you want to continue living like this for four months? Because you realize you still have four more months don't you?"

I shake my head and watch as he retrieves his coat himself from where Kyle had placed it in a side closest. Once he's in it he turns back to smile at me, "I should be getting home then, the Mrs., is probably wondering what's become of me."

Standing from the coffee table to see him out he raises his hand, "no need, I can open the door quite fine on my own, but thank you Stan. Tell Kyle I'll see you both in another two weeks, though naturally feel free to come by and talk if you or he needs to before then."

I nod and watch as he opens the door and leaves. Sitting back down on the coffee table I glance outside through the picture window. Up until now I haven't really paid it very much attention, regardless that it's a huge architectural feature in the apartment. Nothings been done to it, there's no curtain or shades because we couldn't find anything big enough.

Kyle decided that it didn't matter anyway since this side of the apartment faces the mountains. "Besides, there's noting worth peeping in on anyway," he had said. Turning my eyes away from the window I head for the kitchen and start to put the rest of the dishes in the sink. There's no leftovers which is good, there's no room in the fridge for them anyway. It was lucky that Mr. Zanadaci came by to finish off the rest.

Pushing up my sleeves, I grab the dish soap and sponge before reaching under the sink and pulling out the drainer. We have a dish washer but I never use it, and I've never seen Kyle use it either. I think because given our silence toward one another, doing dishes by hand gives more reason not to talk; it passes time at night since there isn't much to do. We don't talk anymore, and we never bought a television. I have no idea why, but Kyle hasn't raised a fuss over it, so neither have I.

By the time he walks back into the apartment I'm still in the middle of washing the dishes and leaving them on the drainer to dry. I don't turn to look at him, but I do listen as he locks up, and places his keys on the table. I can hear as he squirms out of his coat, and places it in the closest.

"Did Mr. Zanadaci leave?" He asks.

I nod at the sink as I pick up another plate.

"I can finish those," he speaks up again and I look over seeing he's standing just outside the kitchen. He's looking at the dishes.

"No, its fine," I tell him going back to washing them.

"But you cooked,-" He starts in slight protest.

"I said its fine," I cut him off. From the corner of my eye I see him back off. "You were gone longer than ten minutes," I say abruptly to him. I can feel him hesitate from wherever he is in the apartment.

"I figured you and Mr. Zanadaci might want to talk longer than ten minutes," he responds from probably the bathroom since his voice sounds oddly echoed.

I can't say he figured wrong, if he had come back on time he would have cut in the middle of the talk I had with Kenny's lawyer. The last thing I'd want would be for him to hear the last parts, or any parts for that matter, of our conversation. Granted, I'm sure he can imagine what we spoke of.

Finishing the dishes I wipe my hands and leave them to dry overnight in the drainer. Wiping down the counter and the table I'm interrupted with the meager chore when Kyle comes back in the living room with a book. He says nothing to me and I watch him slump into the couch pulling up the black afghan he bought last week. The afghan doesn't fit. It fits our apartment like the black vase we ignore and don't talk of, but at least the throw can be of use.

I'm about to ask him what he's reading but I catch sight of the title, _Great Expectations. _

I think back to what Zanadaci said. I don't like our situation and I've made it known to both Kyle and the lawyer, but like Mr. Zanadaci questioned me, I don't want to live like we have for the past two weeks.

"What are you reading?" I ask him, even though I already know.

Kyle glances up and over at me, the surprise on his face is obvious and I try not to let it bother me that the idea of me asking him questions brings such surprise to his face. I can't really have been acting that badly.

"_Great Expectations _by Charles Dickens," he replies.

"Is it for school?"

He looks at me oddly before answering and I settle sitting down on the dining table chair he normally occupies. I sit backward in it, resting the front half of my body against the back.

"No…I just like it. I've read it a few times before, it's one of my favorite books."

"Hhm," I respond and watch as he almost unwillingly goes back to reading his book. I don't ask him about it, I know what it's about. I stand and start heading for my bedroom for the night.

"Are you going to bed?" He calls out once I'm inside the short hallway.

"Yeah," I respond and open my door.

"Oh…" he's quiet. "Good night then Stan," he says to me and I pause at my door, looking inside at my room before turning to look back over toward the living room. I can't see him from here but I can imagine what he looks like now. He's probably stopped reading, his book poised in the air as he looks straight ahead, waiting for me to say something, but probably knowing I won't.

"Night," I respond quietly and walk into my room closing my door.

We've started it. A silent civil truce.

I change into my sweatpants and begin rummaging through my closet and scanning over the well labeled boxes. I haven't quite gotten toward unpacking everything. I'm still wondering if I should bother if it's only going to be four months. But as I start to heave boxes around and scour through one in particular I decide I ought to. This will only get annoying over time if I have to dig through boxes for everything.

Pulling out what I want, I take it back to my bed and climb in covering myself with the large down comforter I have. I open the book and skip past the introduction that to this day I've never read, even though I've had the book for over five years.

_My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip._

I've always found it funny, that in my favorite book _Great Expectations, _the protagonist is named after the one boy that I really couldn't stand as a child, the same boy no one could stand. Not even Chef.

As what is becoming normal with me I get up earlier than I ever did when I lived with Bebe to fix breakfast and lunch for Kyle. After the fire in the microwave incident, and the fact that he put food in the freezer that doesn't belong in the freezer I've personally decided he's too much of an idiot to fix meals in my kitchen.

Regardless that we haven't talked until last night, I still continued to make him meals. It's more for my benefit than for his. It's a nice apartment, even if I'm sharing it with him, and it'd be a shame if he burnt it down. The morning after I had cut myself I had been surprised that he was already gone before me. But then I remembered that he had said something about getting a job with Chef at his restaurant, but I couldn't remember doing what. Unsure of what to do, I hadn't made him anything that day. But when I got ready to go on with my day the next morning I saw that he was still asleep and I prepared his meals again.

I'm not entirely sure when he leaves for work but he gets back a little after I get off work, and when I make him breakfast and lunch they're always gone so I'm assuming he's eating them. I guess he could be tossing them away at work, since I don't see them in our trash, but that doesn't sound like something Kyle would do. Besides, I have feeling he really likes my cooking.

As soon as I've finished making his usual, and have fixed myself a breakfast I shower and get ready to head for school and work afterwards. About ready to leave, something else Zanadaci said pops into my head.

"_You don't have to eat together,"_ he had told me. And he's right, we don't. Scribbling a note that differs from what I usually leave him, directions on how long to heat everything and prepare it, instead I leave him a note saying I'll be going to Bebe's for dinner.

Dropping the pen and hefting up my bag I glance around the apartment, wondering if I've forgotten anything. My eyes automatically land on the vase and the throw, since they're the sores in the room. Deciding I have everything I need I head for school.

Both school and work have gotten better for me. I still get the occasional concerned look thrown my way, and people still ask how I'm doing but they've started to leave me alone. It's pretty much the same at work, but the difference is no one asks me how I'm doing. I think Zanadaci threatened them, but I'm not entirely sure.

When I'm at Bebe's sitting back in the couch later that night I can hear as she hums cheerfully to herself while cooking. I flip through the channels of the TV, stopping when I get to a sports update. The Denver Nuggets are surprising everyone this year, climbing the ladder from the pit they allowed themselves to fall in.

Listening to the commentary from one of the sports reporters I snort in agreement at what he says about something before my cell phone goes off. I glance over at it and see Kyle's number. I pick it up.

"Hey Stan?" I hear his hesitant voice. "It's me, Kyle."

"I know, most cell phones have caller ID," I respond back, still half listening to the television.

"Oh, right," I hear him mutter. "Anyway I have a quick question about the dinner you made me."

I frown suddenly, "you don't like it?" I ask him.

"That's not it, it smells and it looks really good. I just…" he sighs so softly, that I could barely hear it, and then he mutters something.

"What?" I ask him. "I didn't hear you."

"I said, I don't know how long I should heat it up for…I don't want to ruin it or anything."

"Ten minutes in the oven at 400 degrees. But let the oven heat up for twenty minutes before you put it in," I say promptly.

"…thanks, and thanks for making me something even though you were going to Bebe's for dinner. You didn't have too."

"Yes I did," I respond to him. "But you're welcome, I didn't want you to starve," I feel a brief smile creep into my face. It's something I've come to notice about Kyle. We're opposites in the kitchen. I can make just about anything, Kyle can make just about nothing.

"I wouldn't have starved," he tells me sounding rather offended. "I would have gone out for food you know."

"Stan! Dinner's ready!" Bebe calls out from the kitchen.

"You heard her I'm sure," I tell Kyle into the phone, turning off the television set.

"Yeah…what are you both having?" He asks quietly.

I sniff the air, "raw fish."

"What?"

"Sushi, Bebe just got this sushi kit and she's testing her skills on me."

"That sounds good," he says offhandedly, "well enjoy it."

"Thanks, but I'm a cooked meat kind of guy," I say before hanging up the phone. Leaving my phone on the couch and sitting at the table I watch wearily as Bebe sets down the rolls, and rolls, of sushi. She sits down after and grins at me.

"Okay, that plate over there is maguro, tuna," she points. "This one is calledkani, its crab, and the last one is, hamachi, its…" she hesitates. "Crap I forgot."

"It's yellow tail," I tell her and pick up one guardedly and put it on my plate.

"Oh right," she says smiling. "Yellow tail. Well, dig in!"

"I am," I respond poking the one piece I took. I watch as she takes a bunch and begins eating happily. She seems to enjoy it. "Bebe?" I ask, stopping my probing of the dead fish decorated to be editable food.

"Hm?" She asks since she's in the middle of chewing.

"Why did you make so much?" I ask looking around at all the plates. There's way too much, especially since I'll probably only force myself to eat enough to make her think I like it, before I stop and head to the bathroom to hack it all up.

She swallows her piece, "when you said you'd be coming over for dinner I assumed you'd bring Kyle. Is he out eating with someone else?"

"No, he's at the apartment."

"You should have invited him; I'll bet he likes sushi, being from California and all. We can still though," she adds as an afterthought. "Why don't you, and I can set up a plate for him?"

I rest an arm on the table, "I'm having dinner here because I haven't had much time alone with you. I don't want him to come here."

Bebe's cheeks tint and she looks at her plate smiling. We resume eating and I swallow down a lot of rice and green tea, which she insisted on for authenticity's sake, to help make the eating of the sushi easier on myself. I'm a cook, but it doesn't mean I like the taste of everything. I can appreciate sushi and I realize its health properties, but it still tastes like raw fish to me despite the seawater tasting seaweed, tangy ginger, and sticky rice.

"How was it?" She asks when we finish and as we both start to take the plates to the kitchen.

"Sushi isn't really my thing," I tell her honestly. "I mean it was okay and all," I rush when I see her face start to fall. "I just don't think it's something I'd want to eat everyday…or ever again," I mutter the last part to myself.

"I guess I wouldn't either," she says after a moment. "But it was nice to have something different right?"

I just nod.

When we finish up in the kitchen we fall back toward the living room Bebe falls against me and I wrap an arm around her, nuzzling her hair with my face.

"I've missed you," she says quietly.

"I know, I miss you too."

"If we didn't run into each other occasionally at school I wouldn't have seen you in days Stan."

I sigh, "I know…why don't I have dinner with you from now on?"

She looks up at me, causing me to raise my head from her hair, "but what about Kyle? Doesn't he already spend all day alone?"

"Kyle has a job now at Cherry Kiss, I'm sure he's made lots of friends," I say deadpanned. "Besides you're my fiancée, I want to spend time with you not him.

"I wonder if I should say I told you so," Bebe says resting back against my chest.

"You just did," I respond with a snort. "And you told me so about what?"

"I told you that this whole thing of moving in with Kyle was ridiculous. Not only is there no point, but we haven't seen each other much lately."

"That isn't because of the agreement, that's because we simply haven't gotten around to seeing each other. Does this mean you're up for making me dinner every night after I get out of work until I can move back in here with you?"

I see her smile, "I suppose I could do that…" her smile fades. "Are you sure it's okay to leave Kyle though?"

"He'll be fine." We don't talk anyway, I don't add. I haven't told Bebe how we're fairing and I don't intend to.

"Well okay, if you say so." There's a short comfortable silence between us before Bebe speaks up again, "oh Stan, my mother wanted me to ask if you were up to fixing the Christmas dinner again this year?"

Christmas.

I've completely forgotten. Now that I think about it, South Park has been decorated for a week now, and even the restaurant has its holiday decorations. How I've managed to ignore all its signs I can only imagine. Naturally because of that I haven't done any holiday shopping, I don't have the faintest idea what I should get Bebe, or anyone else for that matter.

"Stan?"

I shake out of my thoughts and look down at Bebe, "yeah I'll fix the dinner again this year if no one objects."

"Of course no one objects sweetie," Bebe says grinning at me. "Hey what do you think I should get Kyle? I don't really know him that well, but you've been living with him, do you have any ideas? I've been meaning to call and ask you."

"What to get Kyle?" I question back at her.

"Well yeah, you told me awhile ago that he'd be spending Christmas here with our families this year since he didn't go home for Hanukah…or do you think that's disrespectful to his religion?" Bebe frowns, "you know I really don't know, but I did call earlier to say 'Happy Hanukah,' to him."

"…what?"

Bebe sighs exasperatedly and moves from my chest to look directly at me. "What's going on with you Stan? Don't tell me you forgot Kyle is Jewish?"

"Of course I didn't forget Kyle is Jewish," I snap lightly at her. "…when was Hanukah?"

"You don't even know?" She responds abashed. "The eighth day was yesterday. Hasn't Kyle mentioned it?"

No, but then again, why would he? He wouldn't expect anything from me.

"He might have," I lie. "Anyway it was his choice to stay here for Christmas so I don't think he'll mind if you got him a gift."

"That's true," she mutters to himself. "Well what were you planning on getting him?"

I hesitate to respond. Up until now, I'd forgotten Christmas even existed, and now Bebe is asking me what I plan to get Kyle for the holiday. Should I really get him a gift? I suppose I ought to, more out of tradition than anything else. Since Bebe plans to get him something my parents and the Stevens's must be thinking of something to get him too, even if they still haven't seen him. They wouldn't want him to feel left out.

"I…hadn't decided," I say to Bebe and she nods understandingly.

"But what were you thinking of?"

God I want her to change the subject. How should I know what to get him? I don't know anything about him. We haven't said a word to each other in two weeks. I tap my foot and try to think of something I've seen him show any interest in. It isn't much. My cooking, work, doing his online classes…and I guess reading. You can't hate to read if you can get through _Great Expectations, _even I know there are some parts when you really want to raise Dickens from the dead to give him or slap or two as you scream at him. Asking him why he beat around the bush with the story.

"Maybe a book," I mutter randomly.

"Oh, what does he like to read?" She asks curiously.

"I think he likes classics," I respond. That in itself could be complete shit. I've only ever seen him pull out the one book.

"Hmm," Bebe says thoughtfully. "That could be an idea."

As Bebe keeps wondering out loud I try and decide if I really will get Kyle a book. It seems a little bland and impersonal; given what next to no knowledge I have on his choice of genre. But that's our relationship so maybe a book is a great idea.

Bebe convinces me to stay for awhile, though I tell her I can't spend the night. I don't want to risk doing anything that would upset the agreement I've made with Kenny. He had said four and a half months. Not four and a half months minus a few days here and there.

After we've talked and discussed on gifts to get our parents and a few of our close friends I allow Bebe to almost drag me into the bedroom. It's not that I don't want it; I just don't exactly feel up to it. Even after, when Bebe's resting contently against me, my mind is still elsewhere. She may have enjoyed it, but I still felt certain things were lacking, it just wasn't the same. My minds too preoccupied with other things. This whole Christmas affair, the circumstances with Kyle, and Zanadaci has recently told me there's going to be a huge conference with some buyers about maybe opening a second restaurant in another state. So while it was good, it could have been better.

Once Bebe's fallen asleep I step out of the bed and pull my clothes back on. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, I walk back into the living room to grab my things before heading home.

**-FG**


	19. Stan and Kyle III

**AN:** Hope everyone had a good Christmas! As a Happy belated Christmas gift to all of you I bring forth this rather long present. 32 pages, so make sure you have plenty of free time. Turn off your phone, your tele, grab some popcorn and something to drink. Hope you all _enjoy. _:)

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

Shit, shit, shit. Crunch time. I have three days until Christmas. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I still haven't thought of what to get Kyle. Since Bebe hasn't mentioned what to get him recently, I'm thinking she thought of something for him. But I can't ask her what she got him, because then she'll know I haven't gotten him something, which will only lead to her nagging me about it.

Part of me has been putting it off because I don't want to think about how little I know about Kyle. Not that I've been trying to get to know him. In fact, we rarely see each other now. When we do, its all polite civil talk. Like I'm talking to a customer, completely formal and awkward as fuck, but something I prefer than getting close with him. The other part of me is genuinely too busy to think about it. The restaurant has been insane with holiday reservations, and the same can be said about Cherry Kiss. I don't see Kyle often because he's at work and I'm at work, and when dinner time rolls around I head to Bebe's.

I never officially told him I wouldn't be eating dinner with him anymore, but he's a smart guy. I know he's figured it out. I've stopped leaving notes to him about it, only doing it occasionally, and he hasn't asked. I still make him dinners, and I still leave him directions on how to prepare them. Things could be worse between us, we could not be talking at all, but even I didn't like that situation. This new situation suits me better. We'll get through this agreement, even if it kills me. All I have to do to keep the peace is get him something for Christmas.

"Maybe a poster?"

"Mhm?" I look up at the guy talking to me. I'm in yet, another store, looking for anything I think Kyle might kinda like. I gave up on the book idea when I realized just how many classics there were.

"A poster? Of his favorite band? That's simple enough," the guy continues and I frown shaking my head.

"I don't know what kind of bands he likes…if he even likes bands…and even if I did, he's not the poster type guy," I add when I think of Kyle's room. Regardless that we're only going to be in the apartment for a little while, Kyle's taken full advantage of it. His room, while neat, is personalized. He has pictures up and the whole place just has this…feeling of Kyle. It's kinda odd, but no one would confuse our rooms, even though mine looks nearly the same. Based on what I've seen, he wouldn't be the sort of guy who shows his love of music with giant posters.

"Maybe a cd then?"

I frown at the sales associate, "dude I just said I don't know what kind of music he likes."

"Then why are you in a music store?" He snaps back at me annoyed.

Shaking my head, I walk out, and back onto the streets. I have no idea why I walked into a music store. I think at this point, with only today left for shopping, I'm getting desperate.

My thoughts drift to getting him a card, before I throw the idea in the towel. Bebe would massacre me if that's all I got him. Wandering down the streets I stop in front of the local recreation store and glance in through the window, my gloved hands in my pocket. I study the horrible spray painted window scene that covers the windows of the building before deciding to go in.

Why not? I haven't talked to the bastard in awhile. I could at least give him a 'Happy Holidays.'

The bell announces my arrival and I watch him turn to look at me from where he's stocking large fish nets.

"Staney!"

Any smile I had forming falls instantly, "don't call me Staney you stupid fucker," I snarl at Craig and he laughs, before ditching his work and walking toward me. I give him a small half hug before pushing him away.

"And they say you're in a state of depression, you seem fine to me," he says with a lopsided smile.

"Who's they?" I ask, already thinking of the possibilities.

"Everyone," he replies simply. "So," he continues folding his arms. "You're done avoiding us all now? Done sulking?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone, and I wasn't sulking," I muter quietly.

Craig sighs and glances around, probably to see if his boss has noticed he's stopped working. "Dude, you should have called me or something."

"What for, are you any good at bringing the dead back to life?"

"He was our friend too you know," Craig bites bitterly at me.

"Yeah, I know," I quietly say looking down. "I've just been…I'm not…I don't want to talk about this."

"I'm not surprised."

I can feel Craig's concern toward me, but I ignore the feeling. "I hear Kyle's in town." He says changing the subject. I nod appreciatively. "Well then?" He pushes after a pause.

"Well then what?" I ask blankly.

"When are you going to stop hogging him for yourself? The rest of us wouldn't mind seeing him again."

I snort, "Kyle works at Cherry Kiss, you can drop in and see him anytime you like, and I'm not hogging him. We don't talk much at all."

"You two?" Craig asks surprised as he suddenly pulls me behind a shelf as his eyes dart to the side, seeing his boss.

I stare Craig down, disbelieving that he's asking such a stupid question. "Why would we talk?"

"Um, because you two used to be attached at the fucking hip, that's why."

"Yeah, before he up and left me."

Craig scoffs, "you're still holding that against him? Dude, Stan get over it. He was _nine_. Kids do stupid shit to their friends; _adults_ do stupid shit to their friends."

"Maybe to their _friends_, but we were _super best_ friends, and maybe that doesn't mean shit to you because you never had one."

Craig's lip turns up in disgust, "did you come in here for any other reason than to piss me off?"

"I need a gift for Kyle."

"Why, you don't even like him."

"He's spending Christmas with my family and Bebe's family. We're roommates, I can't not get him one."

The anger in Craig's face dissipates, "you mean Bebe will throw a hissy fit if you don't get him something?"

I nod. He shrugs, "obviously you're on your own. I still haven't seen the guy and he's been here almost a month. Unless he's exactly the same from when I last saw him, I haven't got any ideas. But if he is the same, I suggest those new Denver Nugget sneakers that are going crazy right now. He still likes basketball right?"

I shrug my shoulders, how should I know if he still likes basketball? "But even if he does, I'm not getting him those; they're over two hundred bucks. And besides, this Kyle…I don't think Denver Nugget sneakers are really his thing. He's been in California for eleven years dude, he's got that whole California thing going on."

"What the hell does that mean?"

I scowl, "he wears designer labels head to toe, he _drives _a white Hybrid."

"Oh…best of luck to you Staney, and I got to go back to work, the boss is giving me the evil eye. But come by soon okay? You and Kyle, you can even bring Bebe if you have too."

I growl at him and he backs away, hands up in defense. "Just come by, we kinda miss you, you know? Stop locking yourself in your apartment and in work and come out and play a little all right?"

"Fine."

He smiles and heads back toward the fish nets where his boss is waiting for him, tapping her foot impatiently and staring daggers at a sheepish approaching Craig. Standing to the side of the store I sigh as I glance over the merchandise. About ready to leave and head for the bookstore, I've decided to close my eyes and pluck up a book at random, something catches my eye. I tilt my head looking at it from afar.

Yeah, that's the gift for Kyle.

**Kyle**

"Thanks girls," I say softly, touched at their kindness. I take the small gift handed to me by Lexus. "But Mercedes already gave me the scarf and gloves and I've never given them back."

"I told you they were yours to keep sweetie, and the girls and I still wanted to give you a proper gift. Go ahead and open it," Mercedes says her eyes light up. I glance around at a few of the other customers who are watching.

I've already gotten a…surprising amount of gifts from regulars, even the guys that have a habit of hitting on me got me something for Christmas.

I open the small box and sigh looking at the gift, before giving the girls a small slightly confused grin. Placing the box on the table I hold up the bracelet for everyone to see. It's a small and rather _girlish _charm bracelet. There are only four charms, the letters M, L, P, and K.

I laugh lightly, "thank you," I say eyeing it. It's cute, but again, pretty girlish.

"Put it on cutie," Porscha says happily, eyeing me closely like everyone else as I debate putting it on. I don't want to offend them, and I am touched that they got me a gift at all, especially since I'm only their waiter and I've never seen them outside of Cherry Kiss. But at the same time…

"You don't like it?" Lexus suddenly asks. I eye her carefully, she sounds a little hurt, but there's amusement dancing in her eyes.

Setting down my notepad I take the bracelet and start to put it on, "here let me Red," Mercedes purrs and leans forward to help me snap the bracelet on. "There, isn't it adorable?"

I sigh and shake my wrist, watching the dangly letters. It looks like something you'd get a girlfriend. "It looks so good on you darling!" Porscha squeals hugging Lexus on the arm tightly as she nods in agreement. "And look!" All of a sudden the three of them hold out their own wrists, and I'm not entirely surprised to see three identical bracelets on them.

"Just what _am_ I to you three," I mutter to myself as I pick up my notepad. "Well thanks again girls," I say still staring at the bracelet.

"You're welcome!" They say together.

"So," Mercedes adds pulling me back toward them before I have the chance to walk away. "What are you getting that cute roommate of yours?"

"Stan?"

"Who else cutie?" Porscha questions.

"I…" I wasn't planning on getting Stan anything. He hasn't mentioned the holiday to me at all, even though it's in three days. It was Bebe who called me to tell me about going to the Marsh's with her family and Stan, and that they would swing by to pick me up since they'd have to do some last minute things together. "Haven't decided yet," I finish lamely.

"You haven't decided?" Lexus asks appalled, "Christmas is in three days!"

"I know, I just really…want to get him something…special," I lie.

"Something special huh?" Mercedes says more to herself. "How special are we talking sweetie?"

The other girls look at her curiously, completely lost at what she's talking about but I eye her, narrowing my eyes slightly. "It's nothing like that Mercedes, not even close."

"Nothing like what?" Lexus and Porscha chime together looking back and forth at Mercedes and me.

"Just asking Red," Mercedes smiles at me. She stands suddenly and the other girls follow suit. "Well we should go girls, we're distracting him from work again. We're happy we like your gift."

Nodding my head I watch them stand and ready to leave. "Just get him something you would like," Porscha suddenly says as they near the door. "That's what I would do," she continues, resting a finger on her chin. The girls leave and I watch them, as they cross the street. Mercedes turn her head and looks through the window when they've reached the other side, looking directly at me. Even from here I can see her raise a blonde eyebrow and it's the first time I've seen a thoughtful expression cross her face. I don't like it.

Turning my back on the girls I refocus my attention on the customers that are still in the restaurant. As I take a few more orders I can't help but get a little distracted as that thoughtful look of Mercedes fills my head. How could she have looked so knowing when there's nothing to know?

"Are you okay Kyle?"

I snap out of my daze and smile apologetically at one of the regulars, "sorry, I'm fine. What did you want today?"

"She looked at me _thoughtfully _Chef," I say to him as we start to close down the restaurant a little early. We're doing so, so that he and the cook can shop for Christmas gifts.

"What's your point Kyle?"

"My point is that she was thinking."

"People think."

"Yeah, but do ex-Raisins girls think?"

"Kyle, you're confusing Mercedes with Porscha."

"Oh…right."

"Why exactly does this have your briefs in a bunch?"

"If you had seen the look she gave me, you'd be a little concerned too. It was like she knew something I didn't, and that look doesn't suit Mercedes, whether she's Porscha or not."

"Well, when did she give you that look?"

"…after I said I hadn't gotten Stan a gift."

"That's all?" Chef asks disbelievingly as he starts to out chairs on top of the tables.

"Yeah, that's all."

"Hmm, well as much as I understand women, they're still mysterious, but that's half their appeal. Now what do you mean you haven't gotten Stan a gift?"

I shrug as I move a few of the condiments to arrange room for more, "I mean I haven't gotten him one. I'll be surprised if he gets me one."

"But I thought you said you boys were getting along great?"

I halt refilling a salt container. I can feel Chef slowly turning to face me. "Kyle," he says slowly.

"No Chef," I say quietly.

"Kyle," he repeats again before hesitating. "You and Stan _are _getting along aren't you?"

When I don't say anything I hear him mutter, "oh children, children. Kyle, if you and Stan don't get along why lie about it?"

"I don't want everyone in the whole town to know how much of a jackass I find Stan." I cover my hand with my mouth. I hadn't really meant to say that…well, okay, part of me did. But I understand why he's acting like one, and I've been really good at making sure its only my problem to deal with and nobody else's . I don't want to drag others into our problems.

"You don't like him now," Chef says slowly, his voice in awe. "You two can't stand each other can you?"

I release a small grunt of annoyance, "we both have our reasons, and its not that I can't stand Stan, he's the one who can't stand me."

Chef wipes down a table carefully and moves the cloth in slow methodical circles before speaking up again. "Are you still going to get him gift?"

"I have to don't I? It's my first Christmas ever…I don't want to fuck it up. Besides, I already plan to get one for Bebe and Stan and Bebe's parents. If I get them something but I don't get Stan anything, doesn't that seem a little harsh?"

"…any ideas _what _to get him?"

"No," I squeak out and look at Chef with pleading eyes. "Do you have any ideas?"

He waves his arms and backs away from me, "sorry Kyle, I don't know Stan that well."

I hang my head in frustration. This is what I get for waiting until the last minute. Making my way home, I walked today, I think back to what Porscha suggested, _get him something I would like. _It might have been a good idea with a friend from California but with Stan it's a pretty stupid idea. On what little I've seen Stan interested in, he has everything he wants concerning it, and we don't exactly have a long list of similarities.

The only real interest that I've seen he has is cooking, and well he has everything he could possibly want concerning that. I've only see him go to work, school, and cook. I imagine he did more when Kenny was alive, but the one person I would ask about it, Kenny, isn't around anymore. I guess I could call Bebe…

But, no. I can do this myself. All right, Stan doesn't exactly seem to like the things I do, but he hasn't blatantly _disliked _anything I have, so…what do I like? I like anything to do with keeping up appearances. Something California has taught me, looks, mean a hell of a lot. But…I don't think Stan is that kind of guy. If anything I'm sure he'd be just as happy to get another plain white t-shirt from Wal-Mart as a plain white t-shirt made byFendi.I doubt he'd know the difference, I doubt he'd care.

Maybe I can get him something he doesn't have, but might want. I smile slowly as I dig through my jacket for my cell phone. I have the perfect idea. Holding down the number 8, it speed dials to my old RA Frey.

"Kyle," the smooth cheerful voice says automatically. "How's Colorado?"

"It's…cold." I finally say. "I got a job here."

"A working man, I'm intrigued. Doing what?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting?"

"I'm a waiter at a restaurant."

"Trendy."

I laugh, "sorry I haven't called earlier but I actually have a favor to ask you Frey."

"Spin it by me."

"Three things. Do you think you can get me the Goddess dress in a size six _with_ the matching shoes, in a size…" I pause. I hadn't asked Bebe what her shoe size was. "A size 7," I guess.

The other side of the line is quiet for a moment, "the _Goddess _dress Kyle?"

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I-"

"Sure thing, anything else?"

I scowl slightly, I can feel Frey grinning on his side of the line. He only made it sound impossible to tease me on purpose. "The last thing is a Christmas present for the guy I'm living with."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was wondering, do you think there's anymore of those brand new dG's?"

"Any dG's left? Kyle there probably isn't one left on this planet. Even if I got one how am I supposed to make sure you got it in time? I have what? Two days to gather all these rather expensive and rare gifts?"

"Come on Z," I say pleadingly, using his nickname. A name I only resort to when I'm desperate.

He sighs amused, "you know I can get them for you. But, out of curiosity why such gifts? Whatever happened to scarves and gloves?"

"That's tacky."

"It's cheaper."

"It's impersonal."

"You've only been there a little less than a month."

"You owe me one," I bite back.

Frey laughs, "my debt is repaid. Got an address I can overnight all this too?"

I rattle off the address of the apartment and hang up. I glance at my phone, holding it tightly. If anyone can come through for me its Frey. He's been my RA (resident advisor) since my freshman year at Stanford. He's like the…other big brother I never had, and would have always wanted. He's always there for you, and he's always willing to go the extra mile. And it does help that he has more connections than any 20 something year old ought to have. I asked him about it once, he just smiled and I could have sworn I saw this weird twinkle in his eyes.

Content with the thought that both Stan and Bebe's gifts are taken care of I start looking around for some generic gifts to give to the parental units. Hopefully they don't expect too much for me, because there's no way I can think of getting them the lavish gifts I have in store for their kids.

Spending an entire hour shopping for them I head back to the apartment, pleased with what I got them. It's nothing fancy, just gifts to show that I appreciate them letting me spend the holidays with them. Part of me is actually a little nervous to see the Marsh's again. They _were _like a second set of parents, seeing as how I was either always at their house or Stan was at mine. I've been wondering what they might say to me, what they might think of the kid who didn't want to stay friends with their kid.

Taking in deep sigh, I push those thoughts out. I'm sure they'll treat me like I never left. That's just how they are.

Not surprisingly when I walk into the apartment, and after tossing my stuff to the side to be dealt with later my eyes instantly land on the occasional, yet usual note from Stan.

_At Bebe's. There's a personal casserole already in the oven. It'll be done at 9, hopefully you're there to turn it off, otherwise we'll have a problem when I come back. Call if you need anything._

_Stan_

I glance at the clock, 8:53, perfect. Though he left me something to eat I'm still annoyed. Annoyed because he knew I'd be around to turn off the oven, because he knows I don't have anything else to do, or have anywhere else to go except work and come back here. I crouch in front of the stainless steel over before flicking on the light. Staring at the small little casserole made for me I can't help but wonder what Bebe and Stan are having.

I wonder if Stan's even cooking since Bebe's the type to enjoying cooking for her husband, fiancée, whatever…

I wouldn't go as far to say that Stan and I are friends now. In fact, I wouldn't even use the f word again. More like…actually…I don't think there's a word for what we are. We cohabit and we don't really fight anymore. But part of me thinks that's only because Stan is no longer around to fight with. He's always with Bebe now, which is…how things should be. He's supposed to be spending time with his fiancée. They'd be getting married next month if it wasn't for this agreement.

All the same…this place gets…lonely. And I would think, well…no, I would have hoped that he might have invited me along to have dinner with them every so often. But he hasn't, and I wouldn't dare ask.

The timer goes off and I jump up to turn it and the oven off. Sifting around for oven mitts I open it and take out the little meal, place it on one of the stove tops to cool down. I don't even have to lean over it to catch a whiff, it instantly fills the air and I sigh smiling slightly. Another meal I'll have to wait for in anticipation as I wait for it to cool down.

When I've decided it's cooled down enough, a whole minute or so later, I put it on the table and grab a fork and a drink. No point in wasting any extra dishes if I don't have to. I say a quick prayer, and start to dig in. During these times, when I'm all alone in this place I wish we had thought to buy a television or at the very least a radio. Something, anything to keep me company.

**Stan**

"Sweetie are you _positive _everyone's gift is in that box?" Bebe asks me, for what must be, the twentieth damn time in twenty minutes.

"For fucks sake, Bebe yes!" I snap at her heading down the stairs of the apartment to drop the box in the car.

"I just don't want to forget anything, you don't have to snap at me!" She bites back angrily as she locks the apartment door behind her. "But gosh, I just feel like we're forgetting something," she mutters to herself, but I pretend I don't hear her. She does this every year. Every year, we're always running late to get to one of our parent's house for the holidays and every year she thinks we've forgotten something. As of yet, after dating for eight years we, to this day, have forgotten _nothing_. She worries too much.

"Bebe it's not like we live a hundred miles away, if we've forgotten anything, I can drive back here and pick it up! My parents live across town!" I call out to her over my head.

"I guess," she continues to talk to herself before she reluctantly joins me in the car.

"You said your mom and dad shopped for everything on the list I gave you for dinner tomorrow right?"

"Yeah," Bebe says strapping her seatbelt on and looking worriedly at the back seat. I can see her mind whirling as she looks at everything. Making a mental list and checking everything off she knows we packed away to bring to my parents.

"Bebe, it's fine," I say calmly, reaching over toward her to rub her arm slightly. "We didn't forget anything."

"I don't know, the feelings really this strong this year."

"You're just overreacting because you do this every year."

"I do not _do _this every year Stan."

I continue to pat her arm before driving onto the main road heading for my parents' place. My dad and Mr. Stevens are outside all ready to greet us, as if we did live over a hundred miles away. They shoo Bebe in the house before they glance at all the boxes of gifts and a few other miscellaneous things that they're going to help me bring inside.

"Stan," my dad says warmly, hugging me slightly. I hug back awkwardly before pulling away.

"Um, hi dad," I say. "Have you already started drinking?" I ask and he frowns while Mr. Stevens laughs.

"Of course not! I can't greet my own son with a hug on Christmas Eve?"

I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him, "Shelly isn't here is she? You're not surprising me with her are you?"

"No of course not, you know she's in Denver with her boyfriend," my huffs in annoyance. "But…how are you doing son?"

Oh, I got it. I roll my eyes and start walking into the house with a box. "I'm fine. Mom!" I call out when I enter, setting the box to the side and accepting a tight hug from my mother.

"Stan, how have you been?"

"I'm doing better," I tell her lying. I know she's been really worried about me since Kenny's accident and I don't want to give her reason to worry more than she ought to.

"Really baby?" She asks softly, looking closely at me.

I avoid her eyes and nod. I hear her sigh and she hugs me again before pulling apart at the sound of dad's voice of protest.

"Oh I see so your mother can hug you and ask how you're doing but I can't? If I do it, it's suspicious?"

"Yes," both my mom and I say. We smile at each other and I brush by her to greet Mrs. Stevens who is in the middle of hugging Bebe.

After all the presents have been arranged under the tree with a bunch of others that were already there, we all settle around in the living room. "So Stan, where is he?" My mom acts excited, looking at the closed front door.

"Where's who?" I ask confused.

"Kyle."

A sudden realization hits me and my eyes widen at the same time my mouth forms a silent 'oh' and I look at Bebe who gives me troubled I-told-you look. Our parents see this but seem a little lost. Mr. Stevens is the first one to catch on.

"You both didn't…_forget_ him did you?"

I stand; grab my keys and coat, heading for the door. "I'll be right back," I mutter, and even before the door is opened my parents and Bebe's burst out laughing. As I shut the door I hear as Bebe chastises them annoyed, "it isn't funny at all!" She says.

Actually it would be pretty funny. I would laugh if it were any other person beside Kyle. But it is Kyle, making it not so funny. When I pull up at our apartment I see him sitting on the bottom step with a bunch of wrapped gifts, and a small overnight bag, surrounding him. He looks a little on the cold side, even with the gloves, scarf, and jacket. I don't want to think of the idea of him actually having been sitting out here waiting for…I glance at my watch, 45 minutes. Damn, 45 minutes? Why didn't he call, or go inside?

I honk lightly when I realize he doesn't see me. He glances up before gathering his gifts, one looks a little on the large side…

I hop out and open the back door for him to deposit the presents. He doesn't say anything to me, he doesn't even look at me. When we get back in the car, I crank up the heat and I watch as he seems to melt a little.

"You forgot me didn't you?" He finally asks.

"…why didn't you call?" I say after a tense pause.

"I did," he responds tersely. "I called both you and Bebe."

As I start to say, "no you didn't," I pull out my cell and see '_3 missed calls'. _My phone was on silent. I'm sure Bebe's was too so it wouldn't distract us as we tried to think of everything we needed to bring to my parents. Shit load of help that was.

I sigh, "sorry."

Suddenly I can see from the corner of my eye as Kyle snaps his head to look at me, I glance over briefly. His eyes flash in anger and annoyance, that much I can see, but it quickly melts as he shakes his head.

"Never mind it. It's Christmas Eve right? We should try to…really get along. In spirit of the holidays right?" He says with fake enthusiasm.

"Mhm," I mutter back to him. "Why didn't you tell me when Hanukah was?"

He slumps in his seat, "that was a tense week for the both of us. What difference would it have made? I still got to do everything, just a little differently this year."

"What about the fact that everyone else knew it was Hanukah, but me?"

"It isn't my problem that everyone else pays attention to the calendar but you don't."

Regardless that I'm driving I turn my head slowly to look at Kyle. His fake enthusiasm has already vanished from his face.

Yeah, I guess it isn't my problem that I didn't glance at one. It had been a tense week, and given what happened I think I can be forgiven for not noticing as it passed by. But for some reason, it still pisses me off that even Bebe knew. Bebe, my fiancée who only knows the dates of Christmas, her birthday, mine, and her parents, knew when a Jewish holiday was. She had said she even called Kyle to wish him a 'Happy Hanukah.'

"My mom sounded excited to see you," I say abruptly, obviously changing the subject.

"I always liked your mom," Kyle responds softly as he turns his head to look out the window.

"Everyone is," I continue after a moment. "…and they all think-"

"They all think we're getting along like the best of friends right?" Kyle asks dryly, looking over at me.

"Yeah."

"I can pretend if you can," he finishes lamely.

I don't respond, but I nod. I'm sure he caught it.

Pulling back in front of my parents house, I help Kyle carrying his presents and he grabs a few more plus his overnight bag. Before I can even reach to turn the knob on the front door its yanked open and there stands my mom, my dad, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.

"Kyle!" They all say excitedly, and as I push past them, they ambush Kyle with questions, hugs, and pats on the back and shoulder. Once I've past off Kyle's gifts to Bebe, I discreetly grab the remainder from his arms as he continues to be harassed by my parents and soon to be parents in law.

"They're really happy to see him," Bebe giggles as we stand to the side and watch the display. My mom and Mrs. Stevens are already fussing over Kyle's looks, and my dad is pulling off his jacket.

I shrug uncaring and grab a hold of Bebe, wrapping my arms around her and holding her from behind. She leans back against me as we continue to view the greeting. "What'd you get him?" She mutters to me. We hadn't told each other what we got Kyle, because it hadn't been brought up yet.

"You'll find out when he does."

"Think he'll like it?"

"Who knows. What'd you get him?"

"You'll find out when he does," she responds mockingly as she turns to look up at me, before leaning up and giving me a kiss.

"Enough of that kids," Mrs. Stevens calls out and Bebe and I break apart. "Time for some eggnog."

"Eugh," I say out loud, faking a retch.

"And hot apple cider," she adds grinning at me.

"Much better," I grin back at her. "Actually while you all get some mugs I think I'll bring all our bags upstairs."

"Okay hon," my mom says distractedly. She's already halfway in the kitchen and is dragging Bebe along with her.

Sighing contentedly, I reach down to grab my overnight bag, along with Bebe's and Kyle's. Before I start to make my way up the stairs, I take a good glance at the tree now that everyone isn't around it, blocking my view.

It's the same tree as it is every year. With the fancier ornaments, mixed in with the handmade pieces of garbage I was forced to make all through elementary school. One near the top catches my eye, causing me to drop the bags and walk closer to the tree to get a closer look. It's a small construction paper crafted frame of red and green. It was actually made in 7th grade, why its so crappy, I'll never know. But the picture inside was my student identification card. Only, its different because Kenny's in it. He jumped in at the last second, just before the photographer took the picture. So my school picture that year was of me half laughing, with part of Kenny's face in it, making a stupid face. It was definitely the best school picture I ever took. I laugh lightly as I reach up to touch it. Kenny got two days of detention for it, and I unfairly, got a day myself. The teachers thought we planned it and since Kenny didn't see any qualms with me keeping him company in detention he didn't bail me out by letting them know it was all his fault and that I had no say in the matter.

"Stan?" I jump at the sound of Kyle's soft voice, and upon hearing it I realize that I've started to cry.

Wiping my eyes quickly and rubbing the excess on my jeans I bend down to pick up the bags. "_What_?" I ask him, heading toward the stairs.

Kyle takes his bag from my hand. He looks at me and I look back hard, daring him to ask. He finally shakes his head, saying nothing and accompanies me upstairs. I flick on the hallway light and walk toward my old bedroom. I toss my bag and Bebe's inside before promptly closing it, and opening the one across from it. Shelly's old room.

"You'll be in Shelly's old room," I tell Kyle. "My mom and dad use it as a guest room now."

Kyle nods, and drops his bag at the foot of the bed, but from there he doesn't make a move. I stand silently and stare back at him.

"Do you really want to get into this again Kyle?" I ask softly.

He hesitates, "…was it that ornament that made you upset?"

I scoff and head for his doorway. "I thought we made a silent truce. You don't bother with trying to be a friend and I leave you alone."

"I never agreed to something like that," he snarls gently.

"Yes you did, hence why it was called a silent truce. I thought you understood the terms but since it seems you didn't I'll just tell you. You don't get to ask me how I'm doing, how I'm fairing or any of that shit concerning Kenny. You don't get to pry, and in return I stop snapping at you and treating you…" _Like your own personal dart board – _"Like I hate you." I finish as Mr. Zanadaci's words echo in my head.

"…was it the ornament that made you upset?" Kyle repeats after a second, as if he didn't hear anything I just said.

Gritting my teeth I glare at him and spin on my heels, leaving. Getting an odd sense of déjà vu I head into my old bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure. When I hear Kyle's footsteps approach I tense, but I quickly release a breath when the footsteps continue to walk past my door and descend down the stairs.

**Kyle**

"What's Stan doing?" Bebe asks when I reenter the kitchen with her, the Marsh's and the Stevens'. They're all holding mugs of their drink of choice and Mrs. Marsh hands me a cup of eggnog that I had claimed earlier before I went to check on Stan.

I had at first entered the kitchen with everyone else, even after Stan proclaimed he'd be taking all the bags upstairs. It was after I made my choice of holiday drinks, that I realized I didn't want Stan to take my bag upstairs. For no other reasons that I was still a little mad at him for forgetting to pick me up and I didn't want him touching my stuff.

Quickly excusing myself I turned back to follow him only to discover that he hadn't left the living room. The bags were still on the floor and he was gazing up at the Christmas tree. At first I thought he was just admiring it's traditional beauty but when he reached up and touched a specific ornament. One that looked like an old student id card, I knew where his mind was. Even from where I stood across the room I could see who was in that picture, and I could see Stan's shoulders slump. He had reached a hand up toward his face and even though I didn't see what that hand did I could imagine, and without thinking I had approached him.

A mistake on my part, he bit my head off for even calling out his name.

How can such a little thing trigger him? I admit, because of those two weeks of not talking I hadn't seen him much, so I hadn't seen how he had been doing. From the small times I had seen him, he looked fine, and for a time I even forgot that there was anything really troubling him, besides the fact of his dislike for me, until now.

It's been about a month since Kenny was around, but I guess a month isn't enough for him to stop hurting.

"He…he isn't feeling well," I eventually say after reflecting. It isn't exactly the truth, but it isn't a lie either.

"Oh really?" Mrs. Marsh and Bebe question worriedly at the same time.

"Bebe maybe you should check on him?" Mrs. Marsh asks more to herself than Bebe.

"You know I just did, and…" I sigh dejectedly. They all love him, they have a right to know. "Stan saw an ornament that had a picture of him and Kenny on it."

"Randy!" Mrs. Marsh suddenly shouts out angrily as her head whips to Mr. Marsh. "I thought I told you not to put any of those sorts of things up!"

"But that one's just so funny, it's the one where Kenny jumped into the picture with-"

"Take it down, now," Mrs. Marsh says softly…dangerously. "I do not want my baby hurting on Christmas Eve or Christmas day."

"Sharon, I really don't think-"

"Take it down!" She barks loudly inching closer to her husband who shrinks back slightly before clearing his throat.

"Right, of course, I don't know what I was thinking."

Once Mr. Marsh has left Mrs. Marsh's anger melts and the worry that has really always been on her face since the second I walked in the door, increases. "Oh god, why on Christmas Eve?" She mutters. "That stupid man."

"I'll go talk to him," Bebe interjects gently.

She disappears for an entire five minutes before returning, looking even more crestfallen than Mrs. Marsh. "He said he's fine, and that he doesn't want to ruin the festivities so to go ahead without him," she whispers.

It's like a huge veil has fallen over the house. The mugs of eggnog and apple cider have been set down and no ones really looking at each other. Just casting glances toward the stairs, hoping Stan will walk down and will honestly look 'fine'.

"Well," Mrs. Marsh says breaking the silence. "I'm sure he'll join us while he's ready. Dinner is almost ready and I can already hear some carolers on the way, until then why don't we all gather in the living room and play a few games?"

Everyone nods obediently including myself, even though I don't hear the faintest sound of singing coming from any direction.

Carolers, in fact, don't show up. But Mr. Marsh digs out an old record player and an old Christmas album that's divided into three classic artists, Bing, Nat, and Dean. The music wafts through the house as the food continues to bake, as talking ensues and as a simple game commences. Stealing a few glances at everyone if I didn't know any better I'd say we were all a happy family enjoying one another's company with the Christmas spirit looming over us somewhere. I take another glance toward the stairs.

Yeah. I nod to myself and stand. Fuck this.

"Mrs. Marsh?" I ask as I peek into kitchen.

"Oh, what is it Kyle did you all run out of drinks?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if I could grab a mug of apple cider for Stan? I'll just drop it off for him."

Mrs. Marsh had been stirring something in a pan, but at my question she hovers the metal spatula over the pan to study me.

"Mrs.….Marsh?" I call out confused.

She sets the spatula down and heads for the cupboards, immediately pouring a ladle filled of apple cider into a mug. As she hands it to me, I feel strangely as if I'm being handed something more than just a mug of apple cider to give to her son. When I reach up to take it she meets my eye for a hard second or two before releasing it. I nervously step away and discreetly make my way back up the stairs to Stan's room. After a knock I wait patiently for him to speak up, when he doesn't I knock harder and longer.

"Bebe," comes a tired voice from behind the closed door. "I said I was fine okay, please go back downstairs and have fun with everyone else."

"It's not Bebe," I say loudly to be sure he can hear me.

I can hear him pause, and there's a slight fumble from inside before the door opens. He doesn't look too bad, a little sullen, but it doesn't look like he's been crying. I hold out the mug.

"Apple cider," I say.

He glances at the mug and reaches for it. I pull it out of his grasp before he can take it. "If you want it, you have to come downstairs and drink it with everyone else."

"I don't want to play games Kyle," he responds and is about ready to shut the door when I shove out my arm to stop him. He reopens it again his face starting to harden ever so slightly at me. "Kyle I said-"

"Stop being an ass," I interrupt him abruptly. "It's Christmas Eve, and you're worrying everyone. Come down, eat dinner, play games, and do whatever else everyone wants you to do. Then you can come back and confine yourself in here. And then tomorrow you're going to wake up, open presents, be merry and be thankful you still have the majority of your family around, got it?"

He shuts the door in my face.

I repress the urge to scream or pound on the door; instead I hold my breath and count down from ten, letting out the air slowly as I go along. I slouch slightly as I look at the closed entrance. Ready to admit defeat in this I turn and just as I take the first step down the stairs, I hear Stan's door open.

He's put on a sweatshirt and stares at me. I wordlessly hold up the mug and he walks past me grabbing it out of my hand before descending to the living room. From the top of the stairs no one can see me and I can't see them, but I can hear Stan get greeted from his family and Bebe's. He sounds normal as he responds to them and he even laughs at something I didn't hear Mrs. Stevens say.

I rest my hand on the wooden stair rail and shift my feet slightly. Smiling to myself, I give a little fist pump before heading downstairs at hearing Mrs. Marsh call out my name.

The rest of the evening goes by without any more incidents. While Stan more or less ignores me, not even bothering to look my direction he's still putting on a pretty nice façade for everyone else. I don't think they really believe it, but for the sake of not having any more problems they let it go.

At around ten we all decide to call it a night and head for our respective rooms. The Stevens are even spending the night in the den, even though they only live a few streets down. I guess it adds to the excitement if everyone wakes up in the same house on Christmas morning. Getting ready for bed in the bathroom I try to block out Stan and Bebe's murmurs. In all honesty I can't hear them that well, but if I tried I could, and by the tone of their voices I probably don't want to.

Slipping into the covers I decide that my first Christmas Eve was pretty nice. I'm not really a game person, but I had fun playing them with everyone. Dinner was nice, though not the best I've had. I think I've become spoiled only eating Stan's cooking, and conversation flowed easy. Never once was I put on the spot for having left, and no one mentioned it, which brought me instant relief when I realized they wouldn't call me out.

I wonder what Christmas will be like. Naturally there will be no fat man, but I've still never dealt with waking up and heading to a Christmas tree that had presents under it. I'm even starting to get a little anxious at what everyone will think of the gifts I got. Maybe Stan and Bebe's are _too _extravagant. What if Stan got Bebe something he thought she'd love and she only fawns over the Goddess dress? What if the Marsh's or the Stevens' hate the gifts I got them? I know they're nothing special, but what if they went all out for me and my gifts fail in comparison?

I glance over at the digital clock in the room. I've been laying awake for over three hours.

"Merry Christmas," I mutter to myself and swing my legs over the bed.

Maybe some warm milk will help me fall asleep, or better yet, I had seen Mr. Marsh sneak a beer earlier. That'll probably work better, and I'm sure he won't question one more having gone missing. Then he'd have to admit to Mrs. Marsh that he drank on Christmas Eve.

Tossing a sweatshirt on, I quietly open and close the door before padding softly down the stairs, cringing slightly when I step on a creaky board.

It's pretty much pitch black in the house now. The only light is from the faint stars and crescent moon outside and it really isn't doing much to light my way.

Turning the corner of the stairs I freeze when I see something move in the darkness. It's making a sound too…it sounds sorta like…I hold my breath.

Stan.

I can only see the smallest outline of his figure but he's resting face down into one of the couch pillows. He takes a low shuddered breath and I see his body shake slightly. One of his hands is clutching the side of the couch arm, and it looks like the other is wrapped around himself. When he makes a slight strangled noise my face falls. I shouldn't be here, I should head back upstairs. He obviously left his room so he could be alone. He'd probably go down to the den, but the Stevens' are down there.

But I can't head back upstairs. He'll definitely hear me if I do that, and then what? He makes a few more quieted noises, suppressed sobs. Maybe he'll cry himself to sleep...like he's done before. When he falls asleep, then I'll head back upstairs.

I slowly lower myself to sit on the bottom stair, being as silent as I can to not alert Stan. I feel like I shouldn't be hearing this, I don't want to be here listening to him, because he isn't falling asleep. If anything he's getting a little louder and he's crying a little harder, and it's…scaring me, really bad. He's scaring the fuck out of me, because he can't stop. Will he stop, is he capable of stopping?

And I only feel like the biggest shit, since the only thing I can do is sit here in the darkness and stare at him awkwardly. It's depressing me, and I'm not just sad for what Stan's pain, I'm sad about the fact that he has someone that could break him down like this, I don't have friends like that at Stanford. I wish I could grieve like he is for Kenny, I mean I know it must hurt like hell. But I don't feel the sadness he does, and I almost want too. I want to feel how close Kenny and I could have been had I stayed in contact, and then maybe Stan and I could be grieving together rather than me sitting here uncomfortably.

He's still laying face down on the couch with his knees tucked in, one arm holding his stomach while the other clenches the couch arm. I know I told Kenny I'd take care of him but… what can I do, what can I say? Nothing's worked so far; he just keeps ignoring my help and pushing me away. I sigh and start to back stand slowly, it's probably best if he just gets it all out. I need to get out of here.

Forgetting my resolve to stay put until he falls I asleep I start to walk back up the stairs, naturally I step on the creak in the wood and Stan jolts up in the darkness. I can almost make out his face. He's looking wildly around for the cause of the noise and I sigh miserably when his face finally lands on me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark but I try to pretend that I don't notice the red face and swollen wet eyes. God, he looks horrible. He averts his eyes and rests them back on the couch.

"What do you want Kyle?" He asks softly his voice shaking slightly.

Did he just guess that it was me, or can he see me almost as well as I can see him?

"- I," I start and then stop. Balling my hands into fists I gather the courage that I know I have. When I signed that agreement I promised Kenny I'd take care of him, and I need to do it. I walk slowly back into the room, clearly not something he wants me to do as he looks back up at me. "I…had only come down to get something to help me fall asleep but then I saw you…and I heard you…I just wanted to see if you were okay."

I wonder if he'll laugh at my absurd question. Anyone with one eye could tell he wasn't okay, but Stan takes it in strides like usual, and snaps at me, like usual.

He snorts, and rubs his eyes tiredly before running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Do I look fucking okay? I don't need your pity Kyle, go back to your room."

"I'm not pitying you!" I wince at the sound of my voice and calm myself down. "I just came to-"

"See if I was okay, I got it. You can leave."

"Fine you ungrateful bastard; I was only trying to help!" I spin on my heel and make for the door.

"No one asked you to!" He seethes at me, which causes me to freeze as I'm halfway back up the stairs. Because Stan's wrong of course, someone did ask me to, the very same person's he's crying over.

I take a deep breath; _I have to be the bigger person_. I just have to keep telling myself that the reason Stan is being such a shit-faced asshole is because he's mourning the loss of Kenny.

I repeat that to myself a few times before I turn back around and see he's already crumbled back onto the couch, with his back to me. He's a lot quieter now, probably because I told him I had heard him, but his body is still shaking.

"Stan-" I start quietly and he jerks back up at me. His face is still the same, but now he looks a _little_ mad.

"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go! Go away and leave me the fuck alone!"

Ignoring him I sit cautiously on the edge of the couch, watching as he glares at me behind his damp blue eyes.

"Kyle I swear to God if you don't leave me alone I'm going to-" He stops mid-sentence, probably from shock.

I had leaned in and grabbed him forcefully pulling him into the tightest hug I can manage. Half to make sure he can't get out of it and half because I know he really needs it. After his initial shock wears off he tries to pull away, almost thrashing at me, cursing as good as any Irishman, but I hold on tight. I'm not letting him go.

It seems like forever but eventually he seems to tire himself out. It helps that his crying probably wore him a bit beforehand. He's still tense, and he's just sitting here like a potato sac not touching me back. His hands are to his sides as he takes large angry inhales of air, I can feel how hot his face is.

"God, breathe normally Stan," I mutter to him after I feel like he's been hyperventilating too much to be healthy.

If anything it seems that at the sound of my voice he tenses even further. If he keeps this up he'll faint for sure, and I almost welcome that because my arms are starting to get tired. As I'm about to give up I hear he's breathing change. It doesn't get calmer but it goes from frantically angrily to a strained hiccupping and I realize his anger is fading and is being replaced by his more predominant pain. His breath is racking in uncontrollably and in weird inconsistent intakes and I almost start in surprise when I feel his arms slowly start to embrace me back on my shoulders. And then it's like as if he always wanted me there. He pulls me in tighter and begins sobbing in the crook of my neck, holding onto me so tightly it makes me wonder if he realizes who I am.

"It'll be my first Christmas without him," he strains out.

I bite my lip and trace my hands slowly up and down his back trying to calm him as best as I can manage. I surprise myself when I hear soothing noises forming in my throat.

I barely know how long he stays like that; holding me tightly and I fiercely holding him back; trying to get the silent message across that I won't leave him.

Eventually he wears himself out and the crying stops. I pull away from him enough that I can see his face and am appalled to see that he's fallen asleep on me.

"Shit," I whisper.

He may be comfortable draped over me, but my body is aching to either stand or lay down, neither which is going to be easy on a couch. I have half a mind to just wake Stan up, but I won't. I don't think he's had a decent night of rest since Kenny died and he looks pretty knocked out.

Cringing in stiff pain I slowly adjust my body so that I'm more sitting upright with Stan resting over me, than half leaning toward him. Looking at my situation I decide I can get myself out of here. Being slow and careful I start to pry Stan's arms from around my shoulder where they are no longer clinging to me but are still resting.

Bad move. He stirs, but a flicker of hope lights in me that he might move away and collapse on the other side of the couch. He does lower his arms off my shoulders, but instead of falling toward the other side of the couch he pushes closer into my chest causing me to gasp as I fall backwards against the couch arm with Stan's upper body falling on top of me. He never even budges at _that_.

Well, I got my wish, I think to myself sulkily. I'm laying down now, and…it's not so bad. Stan's body heat is kinda warm and comforting compared to that of a blanket. It is the ever winter in South Park and since there's no way in hell I could manage to move Stan off me without him waking, body heat is the next best thing.

Absentmindedly my hand starts to rub Stan's back again and it works its way up to his hair. I watch silently as his black locks filter through my tanned fingers. He really does have nice hair; he doesn't add crap loads of hair product in his like most guys I know do. I think the most advanced product he uses is something alone the lines of le shower watér.

I sigh letting my hand drop to the side as my eyes start to get heavy. I really should attempt to move from the position I'm in, especially since we're in the living room of his parents house, but I'm just so comfortable and Stan's so comfortable that I easily fall asleep

Something wakes me up a few hours later, and when I do I'm not surprised to see that Stan is gone. I am surprised to see that I'm no longer half laying on the couch with my legs resting on the floor while my upper body rests on the couch arm. I've clearly been moved. Now there's a heavy blanket over me to keep me warm. Sitting up I glance at the clock, it's flashing 6:37 in the morning. Rubbing my eyes tiredly I stand and stretch, wincing at the pops in my back and arms. Stan probably went back up to his bedroom.

Starting back up the stairs I hesitate at the room him and Bebe are sharing, and thinking of him, the flood of tears he released earlier comes back to me. Hopefully Stan isn't too pissed I disregarded his comments to leave him alone.

I'm already opening their bedroom door even before I realize I am. Stan is on the side closest to the door and I eye him quietly. He's fallen asleep again with his back to Bebe's chest. I bite my lip at the sight and slowly close the door so as not to waken either of them. I rub my eyes again, they burn a little for some reason, before heading back into my own temporary bedroom. I only get a few more hours of rest before everyone else wakes up and I have my first real Christmas.

**Stan**

"_What do you think I got you for Christmas this year??" I ask Kenny dully. _

"_Probably something stupid," he says back smiling at me. _

_I frown, "yeah it's pretty stupid, but you know what's dumber?"_

"_What?"_

_I stare at him annoyed and fold my arms. "It's Christmas Eve."_

"_Actually," he glances up at the clock. "It's Christmas."_

"_You're right. It's Christmas…and you're in jail…again."_

"_I know, what kind of people call the cops on someone on Christmas?"_

"_Kenny," I growl out a little aggravated. "Bebe said I should have left you here."_

_Kenny's smile falls, but he doesn't say anything._

"_I pawned your Christmas present for bail money."_

"_No you didn't," he replies with a new amused smile growing on his lips._

_I drop the act; I just can't stay mad at the asshole. "Okay, I didn't pawn your Christmas present."_

"_Did you pawn Bebe's?"_

"_No asshole, now get up and let's go. We need to sneak in my house so Bebe doesn't think I left to pick you up."_

_Kenny stands and bypasses the cop giving him a curt nod. "Won't she realize you picked me up when she wakes up and sees me in your house?"_

"_We'll just say they released you early."_

_Kenny and I step outside in the cold night air, heading for my house and leaving the police station behind. "What did you do anyway, you didn't say?" I ask him.  
_

"_Hm," he looks off for a second before meeting my eyes again. Kenny smiles, "I got bored waiting for you to pick me up so I went joy riding…in someone else's car."_

"_That's petty of you."_

"_Yeah, but it's fun. I wasn't going to do anything to the car, and I was going to bring it right back. You know, its really the owners fault for leaving an $80,000 car parked on my street. He should be thanking me really. Think if I hadn't taken it, someone else would have, and they wouldn't have been quite as kind."_

"_You're such a saint," I frown at him, but I punch him in the arm._

"_Hey what should we do for New Year's?" He asks suddenly, changing the subject._

_I eye him oddly, "why don't we just do what we do every year?"_

"_Get ridiculously drunk at Craig's party?" _

_I nod and he smiles, pushing his hands in his pockets. "Sounds like a plan. Craig owes me fifty bucks anyway."_

"_Craig owes _you _money, and fifty dollars at that?"_

"_Yup."_

"_What for?"_

"_We made a bet."_

"_What was the bet?" I ask curiously._

_He looks at me thoughtfully before reaching up and patting my shoulder. "You're a good friend Stan, you never_ _let me down."_

_I raise my eyebrows confused, expecting him to elaborate on that, or at the very least explain the circumstances of the bet, but he never does and we continue to walk to my house in silence. I'm not sure if he's forgotten that I asked, or if he hasn't but has no intention on telling. I'm going for the latter. _

As I rub against the body beneath me slightly I smile into the chest I'm facing. I haven't slept that well since before Kenny died. It hurts to think of him, but the way I was comforted… it was like Kenny himself was comforting me, only better.

"Mmm…" I mutter to myself, my eyes still closed. "Bee since when has your chest been so nicely toned?" I say still half asleep, and after saying that is when my brain decides to catch up with me.

I almost yell and jump up but Kyle's still fast asleep under me and he looks beat.

Damn. I lift myself off Kyle slowly, and very carefully get off the couch trying not to flee from it. When the fuck did that happen? When did I fall asleep on top of Kyle?

I race a hand through my hair as I force my brain to wake up more than it wants to right now.

Oh…oh.

I feel like a huge weight slams on my chest when I look at Kyle. I had been having a fucking meltdown and Kyle had forced a hug on me, and I actually accepted it. I must have fallen asleep trying to fight him off. He doesn't look that strong from here…

Fuck! How embarrassing! Not just the fact that he saw me crying but the fact that I was wailing like a two year old! I grit my teeth together. Then I had to go and fall asleep on him…

I decide I'm very awake now and that I might as well go do something productive. Maybe I'll start cutting up the salmon for breakfast. Turning on a small lamp that shouldn't wake him, I try not to think of last night and start to head for the kitchen when I hear Kyle shift in his sleep. I watch as he sighs and curls himself into a ball.

Looking at him I bite my lip deciding on what to do. Nodding firmly to myself I walk back to the bed and take my time, going as slow as possible to fit a comforter over Kyle's body, after I've lifted his legs up. Once the warmth is covering him his sleeping body uncoils and returns to a more natural and peaceful position. I look at him thoughtfully for awhile as he sleeps. There's something about the way he sleeps that's alluring, and at the same time creepy. It's because he looks like he's barely breathing, or in some instances like he isn't breathing at all. Bebe takes huge gulps of air when she sleeps. Kyle looks peaceful and content. Eyeing him I start to notice that his eyelashes are a light reddish blonde brunette, and resting gently on his tan face makes them stand out more.

He really has changed; I don't remember him ever looking this attractive. I widen my eyes, did I just think – Did I… it is too early. I should go back to sleep…I'll go back in my bed with Bebe.

Shuffling back toward the stairs, I flick off the lamp yawning before turning back to face Kyle's sleeping figure.

I look to the side of him before allowing myself to completely take him in. "Thanks," I whisper and head upstairs to my bedroom. Climbing in the covers I turn away from Bebe and toward the door.

When I wake up a few hours later, it's still pretty early in the morning but I have to make breakfast before everyone else gets up. I crawl out of the covers, panicking slightly when I realize that I'm not in my own bed, or my room. Then things come back to me, my meltdown, Kyle's comfort and the fact that I'm sleeping in my old bedroom from when I was a kid.

God, I rub my face with my hands. How am I supposed to face him today? Even though I had just resolved to get up and get moving I lay back down on the bed and look up at my ceiling.

How could I have allowed that to happen? I should have been quieter, should have attempted to shove Kyle off more when he wouldn't let me go. I shouldn't have melted into his arms and cried harder. But it had been difficult; I haven't been hugged like that before. He had been so determined to not let me go and at first it kinda pissed me off, but my anger didn't last long.

Because I felt so relieved.

He was so soothing, and so warm and so gentle with me in a way Bebe can't be. It doesn't make sense that he would be that tender with me. I've been such a fucker to him all this time, pushing him away anytime he wanted to talk about Kenny with me, anytime he had offered me comfort, and I had been doing my damned best to ignore him too. Spending all my dinners with Bebe, even knowing that I could easily invite him over so he wouldn't have to eat dinner alone.

I had more or less left him to find company for himself and still, still he held onto me like that.

Maybe the best thing to do is to act like it never happened. I couldn't possibly talk about it with him, it's too damn embarrassing. I freeze when I feel the movements of Bebe shifting in her sleep, relaxing almost instantly and berating myself. I stand up and head down stairs to make breakfast.

Normally for Christmas breakfast I fix a big American tradition meal; pancakes, eggs, bacon, that sort of thing. Recently though, I've finally mastered my smoked salmon, which I had to smoke at Zanadaci's restaurant since I obviously don't have a smoker, and I want to try it out on everyone. On top of bagels and cream cheese, I think everyone will like it.

I almost jump a mile when I see Kyle sitting on the couch curled in the same comforter I put over him last night. He's watching some sort of Christmas news special and he glances at me, probably hearing me jump out of fright.

"Merry Christmas," he says plainly.

Stopping myself from narrowing my eyes suspiciously I nod, and mutter it back at him before walking past and heading for the kitchen. Taking the salmon from the fridge where I had placed it yesterday when we arrived I start to take out the bagels and cream cheese. The rest of the house should be up relatively soon and the first thing we do is grab breakfast and sit around the tree. Eating and opening at the same time, we don't like to waste any seconds doing one or the other first.

"What are we having?"

I drop a bagel at the sound of Kyle's voice. Frowning over at him before picking it back up and tossing it in the garbage I respond, "smoked salmon over bagels and cream cheese." I raise an eyebrow watching him wrinkle his nose. "Have you had it before?" I ask tersely.

"No."

"You'll like it."

"Fish and cream cheese?"

"It's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

Nodding my appreciation I continue to cut the fish in smaller amounts so it'll be easier to put on the bagels.

Kyle doesn't leave, he continues to burn a hole in my back. "Yes?" I ask stiffly. For the love of God don't bring up last night, I chant in my head.

"Do you need any help?" He asks.

"None."

"Okay," without another word at me Kyle heads back into the living room, and I watch from the kitchen as he sits back down on the couch wrapping the comforter around him and staring at the television.

Just as I finish everything for breakfast I hear a herd of feet, and know everyone else has finally gotten up. When they reach the bottom stairs there's a chorus of Merry Christmas', laughter, and the sound of Kyle cheerily saying it back to them.

"Merry Christmas sweetie!" Bebe says popping into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around me, giving me a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas Bee," I say back smiling slightly.

I get the same greeting four more times and my dad is the first one to comment on the smell of fish as opposed to the smell of bacon.

"I know, I wanted to try something different." I point to bagels I put out covered in cream cheese and Pacific Northwest Salmon. "Try it, it took me over twelve hours to smoke the salmon, so you all had better like it," I add sternly, but I can't keep the smile off my face. I watch them each cautiously bite into it and a smile of triumph comes over my face as their faces break out in smiles.

"Mhm, Stan you out do yourself every year with something," my mom says approvingly.

Smiling back at her, I grab my own bagel and bite into it. Not half bad in my opinion. From the corner of my eye I watch Kyle nibble on his. His face, like everyone else's, lights up at the first taste and his next bite into the bagel is much bigger than his first few. "I knew you'd like it," I murmur to myself.

"Hm?" Bebe asks me.

"Nothing, lets open presents!" I say and everyone agrees heading into the living room.

"So Kyle what we do is sit around the Christmas tree, on the floor, a chair, whatever is more comfortable for you and Randy hands out all the gifts. Then we open them at the same time," my mom explains to Kyle who looks like he's listening intently.

My dad starts to hand out all the gifts and I watch curiously as the large gift I saw Kyle with earlier is handed to Bebe. Just what did he get her? I take the smaller one that's from him and watch as he accepts the one I got for him. Even though I got him one, I'm surprised that he got me one, given how I've been acting. When all the gifts have been passed out everyone starts to open them. There are a few gasps of surprise, more chuckles and laughter than anything else. When I reach for Kyle's I'm stopped when my mom speaks up.

"Oh wait!" She says standing up. "I wanted to get a picture of Stan and Kyle opening their gifts from each other! Let me just go get my camera."

Sighing amused, we all wait for my mother to come back. When she does she gives us the go ahead to open our gifts. Staring to unwrap it carefully, I feel weird that everyone has stopped opening their gifts to watch us. Not even Bebe has opened her gift from Kyle yet. I stare once I've taken off the paper and pull out the item from the small box. A quiet click and a flash of the camera goes off.

When I glance up at Kyle I see he's already looking at me, waiting for me to open mine before he opens his. "What do you think?" He asks me cheerfully.

I pick up the sunglasses before looking out the window at the heavy snowy day.

"They're designer! The new dG's, I had to have a friend overnight them for me, and even so the odds of even _finding _one at this time of the year is next to impossible. They have ultraviolet lens' that darken in brighter light! I wasn't sure if you'd like the blue lenses, but you wear a lot of blue."

"…right. Thanks."

Kyle frowns.

"Open yours," I tell him.

He nods and looks at the package before tearing into it. "…what is it?" He finally asks.

"What is it? What does it look like, its new snow boots. I've checked your closest and none of your shoes are made for snow. Good idea huh?"

"…yeah. Thanks," he says to me. I think I also hear him mutter that they're not very fashionable but I'm not entirely sure. He eyes them, turning them over in his hands and even going as far as to brush his hand over the grey rubber.

"Oh, um, nice presents boys!" My mother says interrupting the awkwardness.

"Indeed, Bebe why don't you open one of your gifts," Mrs. Steven's says to her daughter.

Bebe nods and goes for the large gift Kyle got her. Ripping it open I wince and most everyone does as she releases a high pitched squeal.

"The Goddess dress, _and _the matching shoes!" Laughing in glee, Bebe leaps over me to grab Kyle in a hug, even going as far to kiss his forehead a few times.

"Bebe, I'm right here," I growl out softly.

She doesn't seem to hear me, but at least Kyle has the decency to look totally embarrassed over the situation.

"It was nothing Bebe, really," he mutters.

"Nothing? Nothing!" She squeals. "Kyle, I have the only Goddess dress probably in the entire state! AH! I have to call Hiedi!" She jumps off Kyle and heads for the kitchen phone.

My parents and the Stevens' laugh as they all pick up the dress and look over it.

"It is a nice dress," Mrs. Stevens says fingering a bit of lace. "Wait, is this silk?"

"Yeah," Kyle responds the color in his face returning back to normal as he steps closer to Mrs. Stevens and the dress. "There's even silk in the shoes."

"That isn't rather practical is it?" My mother asks interested, "having silk in shoes?"

"Well no, but the Goddess dress isn't about practicality, it's about overstepping the normally limited boundaries in certain fashions. It's really a great piece, I'm happy Bebe likes it. Even happier that she knows what it is and knows the value of it," as he says this he steals a glance at me before turning back to my mother and Mrs. Stevens who continue to ask questions about it.

My eyes fall back on the gift he got me. Sunglasses. They're nice, I suppose, and from the way Kyle talked about them, I guess they're important sunglasses to the fashion industry. I glance over at the already forgotten snow boots I got Kyle. It seemed like a good idea at the time, he does need them. He really needs them, I thought he'd appreciate it, I wouldn't mind having new snow boots.

Maybe that's the problem. I wouldn't mind having new snow boots, and Kyle wouldn't mind having new designer sunglasses. No matter what happens between us, things remain the same. We don't know each other. We're not complete strangers anymore, and what Kyle did for me last night…is not something I would allow anyone to do. But…at the same time…sunglasses?

­**-FG**

_Happy New Year Everyone! _


	20. Stan and Kyle IV

**AN: **I don't know anything about basketball, and it isn't like Hanukah where I'm interested in looking up information about it. So excuse the lack of knowledge, and the lack of caring about not having that knowledge.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle **

Snow boots. Snow boots. He got me snow boots for Christmas. Rubber, grey, dull, snow boots.

I sigh as I turn them over in my hands again. It's the thought that counts I suppose. And from the look on his face when he had opened the sunglasses on Christmas a few days ago, I'm taking a wild guess that he feels the same way about the sunglasses as I do about the snow boots. I set them back in my closet and look out into the living room from my bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I ask Stan leaning against the side of my door. He's putting on an old pair of sneakers, and he's only wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. At the sound of my voice he tenses and pauses in his action before looking up at me.

He stands and slips his cell and keys in his pocket. "Just out for a few hours," he responds not meeting my eye. "See ya," he says taking off.

Once he's left I sigh into the couch, fingering my copy of _Great Expectations. _I thought that after he had finally allowed me to comfort him that things would get be better. It's not to say that things are worse, we're talking, but…he's so tense and awkward around me. I suppose he can't get past the idea that he had a meltdown in front of me.

He hasn't mentioned what happened on Christmas morning, and I can't get the nerve to talk to him about it. If he doesn't mention it, what makes me think I should? But he allowed me to see him cry, he let me hug him, and for God's sake he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on me, that has to stand for something doesn't it?

Stan is such a rollercoaster of emotions. I really can't stand it sometimes, and lately, since he's on break from school, he's being going _out_ a lot. It's not Bebe's he's going to, he'd just tell me if he was going there, he still goes there every night for dinner, and he tells me when he's off going to work. So I have no idea where he's going and he won't tell me. I'm losing count on how many things he doesn't confide in me and how many things I won't ask him about.

I'm tired of reading. I like my book but…I glance over at the door.

Maybe it's not too late to catch up with him…

Coming to a quick decision I jump from the couch and slip on my own, though they're well kept, sneakers, zip up a jacket, grab my keys and rush out of the apartment building.

Wherever Stan has been going he doesn't take his car. That much I've figured out. I look wildly around trying to catch sight of him to see what direction he's headed off in. Yes! There he is. He's heading away from downtown South Park, but not quite in the direction of the college either. It looks like he's headed toward the woods, and he's jogging slightly.

Shaking off any feelings of guilt I have at following him I jog as well, keeping far enough away that he won't sense me and turn around.

Goddamn, Stan is in shape. We've been running at least a mile and his pace hasn't let up, good thing I'm in shape too. When I finally see him slow down, I look at my surroundings. We're in the middle of the woods, and if I lose sight of him I don't think I'd be able to find my way back.

'What the hell are you doing way out here?' I mutter to myself looking at Stan.

"Yo, Staney!" I hear a different voice call out.

I turn to look at the owner, seeing a brunette guy accompanied with a group of other guys approach Stan.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Staneyyou stupid fucker," Stan growls back to the brunette. I ditch behind a tree and peer around at them. There's six total, including Stan. There's the brunette who called Stan out, another brunette, a guy who's obviously rich, and two blondes…one of them is sorta shaking a little bit.

The brunette doesn't seem to hear his biting remark, "ready to continue getting beaten into the ground?" He asks competitively and I watch as the guys split into two teams.

"There's some high schoolers on our court though," the other brunette adds.

"That's okay, we'll give them a proper warning," the first brunette responds grinning.

They start walking together, chatting good naturedly, even Stan and it's when I realize that these are Stan's friends, and that it's the first time I've seen them and I've been here a month. I also realize something else about all five of them, I was friends with them too once upon a time.

Craig, Token, Clyde, Butters, and Tweek. Well, maybe not Butters…or Tweek…and actually I remember there being a lot a competition between Craig, Clyde, and Token with Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and me, but I guess over the years they all developed a closer friendship.

Still following quietly behind them, they all exit the woods and I look around in amazement, almost like a feeling of déjà vu coming over me.

Starks Pond.

God the memories here are ridiculous…there's still younger kids ice skating on the pond, some others playing a snowball fight to the side and others making snow angels. This is something I _did _miss about South Park. We don't have the traditional winter in San Francisco. We get rain, fog, and the occasional bit of freak snow, but nothing like this. There are no frozen lakes, no snowmen, no snowball fights…

To one side of the pond, opposite of where the snowball fight is going on is a small basketball court. That isn't something I recall being there from childhood, and it does look fairly new, so I guess the town added that in recently.

Like Clyde had said, there are a group of guys already on the single court, but I watch in amusement as it's quickly handed over to my old friends. There isn't a lot of fuss, but judging from the faces of the younger guys, there's a lot of bitter resentment. Oh well, the place will probably be theirs in a few years and then they'll be treating the current middle schoolers like how they're being treated now.

Still behind a tree, far enough away not to gather any attention, but still within earshot a basketball is magically produce and Tweek stands in the middle holding the ball.

This is what Stan has been going _out _to do? To play basketball with some friends? Why couldn't he just tell me that? But I don't really have to ask myself that question. I can figure it out. If he told me, he'd feel obligated to invite me, and that is something he clearly does not want to do. Especially with the way he tenses around me at the sound of my voice.

"Craig takes control of the ball and heads straight for the basket, dodges past Marsh, nice move Marsh, _not_. He dribbles forward, fakes a left, passes to Butters- oh, fucking hell, come on Butters, catch the damn ball for fucks sake," Craig yells the last part as he did his own commentary.

The teams seem to be Craig, Butters, and Token, verses Stan, Tweek, and Clyde. Just watching from behind my tree I can see why the teams were made the way they are. Craig, Token, Stan, and Clyde know how to play, and they play pretty well. Butters and Tweek? Well, they're not so good.

"W-well don't fake a left without looking at me!" I hear Butters say in defense.

"If I _looked _at you, it would defeat the purpose of faking a left!" Craig groans exasperatedly, but he doesn't really seem truly annoyed. It seems like he's used to saying that sort of thing and based on Butters' display, I'm sure he is.

"Well that's two points for Team Clyde," Clyde says after making a two pointer from Butters slip up.

"We are not going by Team Clyde!" Stan says annoyed as he takes the ball and heads for the sideline.

"Then what's your suggestion?" Clyde fires back as he gets into position.

"I don't have one, why can't we just play ball?" Stan asks tossing the ball to Tweek who immediately drops it on his foot.

"Awww," Stan, Token, Clyde, and Craig say together.

"Come on Tweek!" Clyde says to his teammate, giving him a punch in the arm. "Pretend you know how to play for once."

The blonde boy twitches slightly and blinks in a random sequence before replying, "I'm tr-trying! Stop putting pressure on me!"

"Okay, re-do," Stan says taking the ball back.

"There's no re-do, we get possession!" Craig calls out.

"You guys got possession when the same thing happened with Butters so shut your hole and get back on the court!" Stan barks out as he heads back to the sideline. This time he throws it in toward Clyde who catches it easily and starts dribbling for their basket. He has a lot to go up against with Token guarding Stan and Craig having no reason to guard Tweek.

I'm only standing here, but I feel a rush of excitement from watching. I'm swearing to myself as they make stupid moves, and cheering inwardly as they make good ones, I completely lose track of time and of what it is I'm watching. Until I here my name, of all names brought up as they end the game at 23 – 15 in favor of Craig's team.

They're sitting together on the court and Stan had been tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. It was Craig who brought me up.

"When are you going to bring Kyle by?"

Stan freezes in what he's doing to stare Craig down. "He works."

"Every hour of every day? It's Sunday, Cherry Kiss isn't even open, so where is he?"

"I already told you," Stan hisses. "That if you want to see him, you are more than welcome to drop by his work and see him."

Craig scoffs and leans back on his elbows. "Shit, you hate him that much now?"

The other guys look at Stan, and so do I. "I don't hate him," Stan says after a moment. "But things aren't the friendliest between us yet."

"What, and isolating him from us is helping?" Clyde pipes up.

Stan frowns, "you want to hang out with him or me?"

"Both," Token says looking harshly at Stan. "I've only seen him from afar, I tried getting his attention in the grocery store almost a month ago but he didn't seem to notice me, and I couldn't follow him out. I didn't want to seem like a stalker."

"How about this," Craig says speaking up over them all before Stan can retort. "Bring him to my New Years party this week, we can all "meet" him there."

"I don't-"

"You don't what Stan? You always come to my party," Craig interrupts him coldly.

"…yeah, with Kenny."

There's a silence in the group of friends, just like there always is when Kenny's name is mentioned.

"So, so maybe they'll be a new trend. Maybe Stan can come to the party with Kyle now?"

Everyone looks at Butters, before looking at Stan, nodding slowly to each other. Stan gets up from the asphalt they had been resting on, dropping the basketball toward Token who catches it easily.

"I'll bring him to the party, fine. But don't act like he'll be around for another one. Kyle lives in California, he's only here temporarily, so don't even think of replacing Kenny with him."

"Dude, _not _what we were saying!" Craig calls out as Stan starts to walk away.

"I, ergh, ehh, I-I told you not to mention, Ke-Kenny," I hear Tweek squeak out.

"Shut up Tweek," Craig growls his eyes on Stan's retreating figure. "I'm not shitting around Staney, bring the Jew!" He yells out.

I don't think Stan will respond be he whips around, his eyes blazing. "One more time, you fucker! Call me Staney _one_ _more time_!" He shouts before stomping off.

**Stan**

That Craig pisses me off, in a way no one else can. With the stupid nickname, his ugly mug, I don't know why I bother hanging out with him. Calling me Staney, again, after I've cursed him over not to.

And then…wanting me to bring Kyle to his annual New Years party! How can he ask that of me? I've been tense as fuck around Kyle. I'm still pissed at him for what he did in the past but the present is weighing over the past right now. I still can't get over my reaction toward him on Christmas. The crying, the embracing, falling asleep on him…the fact that I liked it. That's what I can't get over the most. The fact that I actually liked it and felt calmed. For that small amount of time I felt like everything was going to be okay, so long as Kyle was there to stick it out with me.

I shake my head. It doesn't make a difference who would have seen me. I'm sure I would have reacted the same way if anyone else found me at that time. If my mom would have found me, I definitely would have reacted the same way…actually. I sigh. I probably would have clammed up further not wanting to worry her, and the same goes for my dad. With the Stevens' I probably would have denied everything, and with Bebe…

I haven't been able to say anything to Kyle regarding what happened that night, and thankfully he's not mentioning it either. As far as I'm concerned we can act like what I did never did happened. But, in turn I can barely look at Kyle, I'm completely ashamed and embarrassed at how I acted. I mean, I know I can get off with my reasoning's, and I really couldn't keep it in…but still. I can't help the way I feel about the situation.

And now, somehow I have to get the courage to ask him to this New Years party.

Every year Craig throws the same party at his house, since next to Token, who's parents would murder him if he had a party, he has the biggest house. Best of all his parents always leave for some relative's place and they don't give a shit if there's a party. So long as nothing's broken and everything is cleaned up when they get back.

It's one of the more talked about events with our age group. For being such a laid back guy, Craig's pretty stingy on who he invites. He says it'd be no fun if everyone got to come. Personally I think he just likes to make himself think he's more popular that he really is.

But I do like to go, or at least I always have in the past. There's just one thing I don't like about Craig's party. There's one thing _no one _likes about Craig's party.

Craig.

Last year I thought for sure Kenny was going to beat the shit out of him, but I cooled him down before anything happened. The year before that, Clyde was going to kill him, the year before _that_ Token had to be held back from him, and then me, and the list sorta goes on like that. Why we all come back every year and remain friends with him, I sometimes don't know.

I start heading back for the apartment. I'm sweaty as usual and I want to shower before I head to work, not only to get the sweat off but to mentally prepare myself for Zanadaci. He's been on the warpath lately with all this talk of opening a new restaurant out of state. Apparently some private investors are coming to town soon to talk to him about it, and unfortunately, being the new head chef, I have to go to the meeting _and _cook for them. Because of that he's been watching me like a hawk lately, never letting up and yelling to me about every tiny detail. From the fact that I forgot an extra dollop on a cake to not washing my hands for sixty three seconds under scalding water after I've cut up raw meat. He's getting on my last nerve, but I know I'm on his as well.

So with the stress of work, this impending New Years thing, having to invite Kyle, and the status of how I feel around Kyle right now adds up to a very tense me.

Walking back into the apartment I share with Kyle I toss off my sneakers and am ready to head into the shower when I hear the front door open again. I watch Kyle enter the apartment and tense. He looks a little sheepish for some reason but deciding I don't care why, or where he was I start heading for the bathroom.

"I'm showering then leaving for work," I say facing the hallway and promptly closing the bathroom door before he has a chance to respond.

When I come back out I quickly change and start looking around from my work shoes. I'm running late. I was in the shower for too long brooding and now I'm going to be late. I don't think I'll be able to remain calm if Zanadaci yells at me for being late. Throwing myself into my closet I heave boxes and clothes out of the way, cursing when I stub my finger on something.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm unpacking all this shit.

"Fucking hell where the fuck are they?" I mutter to myself abandoning my closet and peeking under my bed. Growling in aggravation when I don't see them I stomp into the living room, ignoring the sight of Kyle curled up reading on the couch. From the corner of my eye I see him mark his place and look over at me.

I hear the sound of my cell phone go off as I continue my frustrating search for my work shoes. "Can you get that for me?" I bark loudly to Kyle. He seems startled that I acknowledged him, but the ringing of my phone stops and I hear him mutter "hello?" into my phone.

I stop in the tiny dining room and try to remember where I saw my shoes last. Shaking my head in annoyance I head for my room again hoping they'll magically reappear even though I already tore the place apart looking for them. If I remembered where I saw my shoes last, I'd be able to find them.

"Sorry, but you're yelling in the phone too much, who are you?" I hear Kyle talk from the living room. "Mr. Zanadaci? You sound really different on Stan's phone, and what's wrong?"

Maybe my shoes are in Kyle's room? No, why the fuck would they be in there?

"He's – I'll just – Mr. Zanad -, ergh! Stan!" Kyle yells from the living room and I growl and head back snatching the phone from him. "Mr. Zanadaci is acting like a prick for some reason, but he wants to talk to you." He says annoyed and goes back to his book, though I doubt he's reading now.

"Mr. Zana-"

He cuts me off. "Where are you?" He snaps at me.

"At home, I can't find my fucking work shoes."

"What time were you supposed to be here?" He goes on like he hasn't heard me at all, which he probably didn't.

I glance at the clock on my phone, "now."

"Now, do you know what time now is?"

"What?" I ask confused.

"Now, is now!" He practically screams in my ear and I hold it away from my head in exasperation.

"I know, I'm on my way alright?"

"Ten minutes," he growls and hangs up on me.

I sigh and snap my phone shut, running my hand through my hair. Ten minutes to get to a place that's twenty minutes away. Yeah, okay, maybe if I go 80 and leave now. But the point is that I still can't find my fucking godforsaken shoes!

"What was wrong with Mr. Zanadaci?" Kyle asks suddenly interrupting my internal dialogue.

"He's always like that," I mutter and glance helplessly around. Maybe I should just go buy a new pair on the way. But an unnecessary stop? Ergh.

I finally glance down at Kyle seeing his confused face, "oh. Not _that _Mr. Zanadaci. The one on the phone is my boss, his older brother is Kenny's lawyer," I tell him and he nods still looking confused.

"Well that's interesting."

"Yeah." The awkwardness is starting to set in again, especially with the way Kyle's looking at me. I really wish he wouldn't look at me like that. "I'm going," I say and turn on my heel to leave. I'll just have to work in my basketball sneakers.

"Don't you want your work shoes?" Kyle asks, and as I turn back to kindly tell him I haven't seen them I see he's holding them up.

I walk slowly back toward him, eyeing the shoes carefully. "Where did you find those?" I ask quietly.

Kyle tilts his head, and glances over the edge of the couch that is carefully hidden from my view unless I walked directly in front of it. "They were at the edge of the couch."

Grinding my teeth together at the thought of my own incompetence I take the shoes from Kyle's hand and quickly put them on. "Later," I say when I'm ready.

"Wait," he calls out and I stop, my head already out the door.

"What?"

"Um, are you coming back tonight for dinner?"

"Of course not, I'm going to Bebe's."

"Oh."

"I didn't get around to making you anything; maybe you should order a pizza or something. Jet Pizza Palace makes really good cheese," I tell him and close the door behind me, locking it after.

Heading down the stairs I slow down once I've reached the bottom. I need to get going, I don't have time to hesitate but… I glance back up at our apartment door. Sighing and rubbing my arm slightly I head back up and walk back in. Kyle's head snaps back toward me and he watches me, waiting for me to say something.

"…some friends of mine are having a New Years party…they want me to invite you…unless you have other plans?" Even I can't keep the hope out of my voice.

"Oh," Kyle seems disappointed at what I said but he quickly covers it up and nods with a bright smile. "I don't have any other plans, so sure, it'll be fun."

I nod not moving before leaving again realizing I don't have anything else to say.

**Kyle**

I was hoping he'd invite me have dinner with him and Bebe.

I toss my book on the coffee table and lean my head against the arm of the couch, having my head face the ceiling. I wonder if it'll be uncomfortable talking with my old friends. If it's anything like what I've been having with Stan I think I'll go crazy but…they seemed like they really wanted to see me again.

If anything it seems like its Stan who doesn't want me to meet them. The thought depresses me to think he'd doing everything in his power to make sure I don't get integrated into his life. I'm not asking to be what Kenny was for him and at this point I never would be, he doesn't even want me to be, but I really want to be treated like a friend.

As he had said he doesn't come home for dinner, but I opt out on the pizza and settle for a sandwich instead. I've finally come across some things that even I can make on my own. Granted its just peanut butter and jam, but it's better than nothing.

"Have you moved?" Stan asks when he comes home later. I'm still on the couch from when he left earlier this afternoon. He looks exhausted and he tiredly drops his things on the dining table.

"I made a sandwich."

He looks at me and even through his tired eyes I can see the faint glimmer of surprise but he doesn't comment on it.

Throughout the next few days things return to normal between Stan and I. But I guess normal is hard to define with us since normal used to be biting comments back and forth, with fights and sarcasm as I tried to get to know him. Then it was not talking at all, not looking at one another, then a silent truce, us getting along in the most horrible way, talking only when we needed too, and now…

Now, it's sort of where we left off. With one major factor added, that I can't pretend that things are exactly the same as before Christmas. They're not, even though I've noticed that Stan tenses around me, I can at least ask him about his day again. Before he didn't want me to even do that, and okay so he responds reluctantly and I have a faint feeling he'd rather not answer but he does and that's what counts.

I almost want to curse Christmas' existence. If it wasn't around Stan wouldn't have seen that ornament, it wouldn't have reminded him what, or rather who was missing during the holiday season and I would never have come across him breaking down. I wouldn't have comforted him and he'd feel no reason to jump a mile when I entered a room. Because even though I feel like things are progressing, I feel like Stan is taking another step back.

One step forward two steps back.

It's starting to really piss me off, and as he parks his car on the side of the road I glance up at the big house we're out. It's New Years Eve and I'd rather be anywhere else than at a party, and with Stan of all people. The entire ride here was in tense silence and he didn't spare me a single glance.

There's absolutely no one outside the house like I had expected and if it wasn't for the huge amount of cars I'd assume no one was home. There doesn't seem to be any lights on, not even the porch light is on. Deciding that I can't stand the silence any longer I turn to Stan.

"Is there really a party in there?" I ask him as he opens his car door.

He bends down to look at me, "if you expected drunken people on the lawn throwing up and people jumping off the roof into the pool like in the movies you're an idiot. The best parties are the ones that don't get stopped. The lights in the front are off so as not to attract police attention."

"And the shit load of cars won't?"

Stan shrugs and closes his door. I quickly open my own and step out. "You can't give someone a citation for having people over."

"But-"

"You coming or are you going to keep asking questions?"

I frown and follow him down the short cement path to the front door of the house. From outside you can't hear anything but as I lean my head closer to the door I can hear, and even feel the music. It's loud, really loud. They must have thick walls.

Stan knocks loudly on the door and we wait for someone to open it. The door suddenly does and I glance at the black haired guy who did. He looks at us suspiciously and is about to open his mouth when Stan pushes past him annoyed.

"Move Brad," he says and Brad does just that allowing us to enter, closing the door behind us and disappearing into the crowd.

As Stan and I enter the house I look around at the hoards of people, and try to see if I recognize anyone. I hadn't asked Stan, but I had been informed by Mercedes, Porscha, and Lexus that they'd be here. Unfortunately it's pretty hard to identify people through the slight cloud of smoke. As I had anticipated the music is pumping and vibrating in my ears. People are milling around with drinks in their hand, talking, laughing, all dolled up for New Years. Turning back to ask Stan who a certain person is, I sigh when I see he's vanished.

I know we haven't been buddy buddy lately, but why would he leave me alone at a party where I don't know 99.9 percent of the people?

Continuing to stand by the door I debate the pros and cons of simply leaving. Pro, I don't have to be the sole person who doesn't know everyone here. Con, I had told the girls I'd be coming. Pro, I don't have to make uncomfortable conversation with people I don't know. Con…Pro, if I go home I can be a loner in the privacy of my own bedroom, Con…

I turn to open the door. I'm leaving. I'll fucking walk home.

"Kyle?!" Someone calls out and ignoring it I open the door to step out. There's probably twenty Kyle's at this party, there's no reason why anyone would mean me. No one here knows me.

"Kyle!"

About to close the door behind me, a hand drops on my shoulder and I look back to see a brunette grinning at me. "Dude, do you always ignore people when they're calling out for you?"

I smile at the guy I recognize from the basketball court. Craig. "I didn't think you meant me...Craig right?" I ask, just to be sure.

Craig beams grinning at me and gestures for me to reenter the house. "Yeah, I'm happy you remember me. You weren't leaving were you? I just saw you and Stan arrive."

"Yeah well, its not like I know anyone and Stan ditched me the second we came in."

Craig snorts and looks over at something I can't see, "I did see him throwing back a few cans already with the guys, and anyway you know me now. Come on, I'll get you a beer."

I follow Craig through the crowd, squeezing past a few and smiling at some who smile at me like they recognize me. By the time Craig and I get to where the drinks are there's a number of people that have followed us. I take the offered beer.

"I present the estranged friend, Kyle," Craig says dramatically gesturing toward me in a sweeping fashion to those around us. He slaps me on the back. "Good to see you again dude."

"Thanks," I say honestly. "It's good to see all of you too."

"Okay, let's see who he remembers huh?" Craig asks around to the number of people near him. They laugh and nod. Craig nudges me with his elbow. "Go ahead name the people you remember."

I laugh and glance around. It's almost too many people to take in at once. So many familiar faces and a huge jumble of names, but a select few come back instantly to me.

"Token," I start at with gesturing and smiling toward the obvious. "Um," I pass a few people who I don't recognize at all. "Clyde, Tweek…" Tweek jerks slightly and I laugh. "Butters, umm…Damen?"

"Damien," I'm harshly corrected.

"Right, sorry," I say rubbing the back of my head. I rattle off a few more names before giving up. "Okay, sorry I don't remember anyone else."

There's a few fake groans, but no one seems to really mind. In fact to them its like I never left. The people who I don't remember are introduced to me mostly by Craig and Token who seem to have taken me under their wing. The thought makes me smile and I allow them to push me through crowds introducing me to too many people. There's no way I'll remember even half of them.

The second they think I've met enough people I'm pulled off to the side by both of them and my now empty beer, is replaced by another one by a passing person. I glance at the guy who gives me a wink. It's one of my regulars from Cherry Kiss, one of the guys that always hits on me.

I smile back, but he's already lost in the crowd before I can thank him for getting me a new drink.

"So, dude, let's talk," Craig says after he's taken a long drink.

"How's life been, California okay for you?" Token asks.

"Oh yeah, I really like living over there….um, I hope there isn't any hard feelings about me sorta…losing contact."

"Nah," Craig waves a hand dismissively.

"Shit happens," Token adds. "I wouldn't want anyone to know I associated with people like Craig either," he says laughing.

Craig frowns at him and they start to argue good naturedly, but what Token says really caught me off guard. How did he guess that's what happened?

"Aw dude, it happens to the best of us. Peer pressure is a real bitch and we understand that," Craig says after he and Token have stopped fighting and he realizes I'm silent.

"Then why doesn't Stan?" I mutter bitterly.

Craig and Token exchange looks and before I know it I'm being half dragged to another room. Token takes the beer out of my hand and it's quickly replaced with a shot glass. Craig reaches over a table and pulls out a full bottle of a gold liquid. He pours me a shot and then pours himself and Token a shot, shooing away a few people who look at the new bottle with greedy eyes.

"Because you were Stan's best friend," Token finally answers.

"But we forgive you," Craig adds and Token nods firmly. We chink glasses and throw back the shots.

"Ugh," Token says immediately after. "Craig what the fuck is this shit?" He asks looking at the bottle label. Even I cringe in disgust.

"I dunno," he muses and glances at it as well. It isn't in English, and it's not Spanish either.

"Dude, what _are _you poisoning us with?"

"It's from my dad's private stash…" he says thoughtfully. "Anyone want another?"

Both Token and I hold out our shots laughing. If it tastes this horrible it's bound to have interesting effects. After a few more I realize that I've drunk a little more than I normally do. I blink hard when I realize Craig and Token look a little distorted, but I can see Token grin.

"Yup, def'ntly pois'n," he manages out.

I nod at him laughing. My eyes glance over at the foreign bottle we drank from, it's almost empty, and I'm pretty sure we were the only three drinking from it. That's not entirely good.

"'ts weird havin' youz back Kyl," Craig tells me swinging an arm and resting it on my shoulder. "'specially since youz and Staney ain't getting' 'long much. Tha's weird in itsev. But, its good to 'ave you back! 'T's good!"

"Agreed!" Token cheers.

"Than's guys, you guys are…the best," I say back.

"Are youz and Staney really not gett'n long?" Token asks me and I drop my head against Craig's shoulder tiredly.

"He hates me, so much."

"Nah dude, no!" Token responds, patting my forehead.

"'Ts's tru," I slur.

"Youz two jus ain't gettin' 'long _now_, tha's all," Craig says confidently.

"Tha's an understatement," I manage to snort. " 'e hasn' even tried to get to know me, you'd think I was this _huge_ fuckin' thorn in his ass that he's tryin' to pull out but can't reach, so he has to deal with it. He doesn' like to talk to me, he just leaves me in the apartment knowin' I have nowhere to go, no one to talk too. He ignores any advice I say, shuts doors in my face. Ther's only so much shit a guy can take guys...an' after I'v tried so hard."

"Kyl, no dude, don' cry, 't's not cool at all," I hear Craig say to me, but it sounds a little far away.

"You know wha I'mma do?" Token almost shouts and I turn to look at him. "I'mma go kick Staney's ass for you Kyl, that'll treat- tell him!"

Token staggers off, continuing to proclaim he's going to kick Stan's ass and leaving me alone with Craig.

Craig shakes his head slightly smiling proudly while watching Token take off. "Tha's friendship righ there, but 't's best we not wat'c Totem try to kick Staney's ass, lets get you in a bette' mood!"

I raise my head from Craig's shoulder and peer at him closely through narrowed eyes.

"Ho're we gonna do tha?"

Craig looks a bit lost, "oh I hadn thoug't tha far yet."

That causes me to laugh and Craig joins in. We continue to laugh over trivial things, even though in the corner of my mind I'm wondering how a drunk Token is fairing with Stan. I haven't seen Stan since we first entered the house so I have no idea what sort of state he's in.

Still laughing at a lame joke Craig tells me in order to keep me cheerful I jump a little when my body hits a wall. Looking around I realize that I'm backed into a corner, that I can't see anyone else from the party and that Craig is hovering in front of me.

I laugh and smile at him, "where'd everyon' elssse go?" I ask him, craning my head to look over and around him.

"They're aroun," he responds. His voice catches my attention and I see that he's stopped laughing and has stopped smiling.

With Craig only about twelve inches away from my face it's impossible to not focus on him, but even so in the background I can hear the unison chants of the countdown.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

I watch as he raises one of my hands and rests it on my cheek.

"SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"

"You've gotten really pretty Kyle," he tells me, in a crystal clear voice.

"THREE! TWO!"

"Really prett-" He's cuts himself off when he plants his lips on my own.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The second his lips land on mind they're almost instantly pulled back when he's yanked forcefully away from me.

Blinking hard I see Stan glaring at Craig who's grinning sheepishly at him. "Happa New Yearz Staney!"

Stan doesn't look amused at all.

"Don' give meeh tha look, it wasss a New Years kiss, everyone deserves one," he says patting Stan's back.

"Stay _away_ from him Craig," Stan finally responds, pushing Craig's hand off him. Craig shrugs smiling before walking off and grinning at me. I wave dazedly before Stan turns to face me.

Stan looks disgusted at me as he shakes his head, "you're drunk."

"So what?" I say pushing him away from me. "T's New Yearz, an t's a partee, tha's wha people do. 'Sides, Crai said he saw you drinkin' earlier anyways."

"He probably saw me drinking a coke. I'm not drinking since I'm the one that drove here, do you remember that?"

When I don't answer he frowns and continues talking, "don't you know you're supposed to stay away from Craig when he's been drinking? He's a good guy, but once he's intoxicated he gets overly friendly with everybody."

I suddenly start to get angry and a little more sober, "how would I know that? Who could possibly be the one to tell meh tha sorta thing? Oh, wait, tha'd be you, but you've been too busy…freakin out over me seein and comfortin you when you were cryin tha you been too occupied wit actin like nothing happened to tell me!"

Stan's eyes narrow slightly, "I don't talk with drunken idiots," he says to me and turns to leave.

"You don' talk to me period!" I yell out.

He cranes his head to look back at me, "we're leaving."

I fold my arms in protest. "I don' wanna leave. I still haven' seen 'Cedes, Porsh, or Lexus, and I want to stay and have fun with Token an Craig."

"If you call fun being sexually attacked by Craig, then by all means, have _fun _and while you're at it, get him to drive you home. I'm out of here."

I watch Stan stomp off giving tight 'Happy New Years' to his drunken friends as he passes them. I step from around the corner and back into the main crowd and am instantly wrapped around a pair of arms.

"Crai, get offa me," I mutter to him.

"Aw, Staney always ruins a good mood," he says and walks into my line of view. "Where's he off to in such a 'urry?"

"He's goin' home," I tell Craig and start heading for the main living room.

"Wit'out you?"

I grunt a noise of approval. "Crai?" I ask suddenly and facing him again, stopping in the middle of the foyer.

"Yeah?"

"Do you always ge' overly frie'nd-ely with ever'on when you're drunk?"

I watch as Craig rubs his head grinning, "no 'ard feelin's eh Kyl?"

I roll my eyes but smile back, "jus don' do it again', it was sorta gross."

He laughs and throws his arm back around my shoulder which I push off, he frowns but doesn't try again. "Youz really gonna stay 'ere for awhile longer?" He asks.

"Well…Stan's probably left me by now anyway."

"Tha's true, he's a stubborn azzhole," Craig mutters. "Youz know I 'avent seen Token in 'while, and I 'have seen Staney, so I guess Staney kicked Token's ass instead huh?"

I laugh, though even I can tell it isn't as genuine as it was earlier, "I gess…"

**-FG**


	21. Stan and Kyle V

**AN: **Awesome reviews guys, thanks so much! XD I hope you all know you're on a high pedestal now ;)

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

I shouldn't have left him. I shouldn't have left him with that drunk pervert Craig.

I'm currently sitting in our apartment, flipping open my cell phone every once in awhile as I check the time. It's already four in the morning and Kyle still isn't back. Maybe he's spending the night there. It's a possibility since I have a feeling I was one of very few sober people back there, and my friends, as dumb as they are, have the sense not drive when they can't even walk straight.

But still…I'm thinking maybe I should drive back; see if he's okay and not violated. This is why Craig almost always gets beaten up every year at his own party. He always tries to take advantage of a drunk friend. A drunk male friend, and he claims he's straight. Whatever.

I tap my foot impatiently on the floor before standing. I have to see if Kyle's okay. I'm the one that invited him in the first place.

Heading back into my car the drive back to Craig's is quiet. The roads are completely deserted which I prefer on a night like tonight. Parking, I close my door, listening to the echo and make my way up the porch stairs and to the house. I don't bother knocking and instead walk right in through the unlocked door.

The atmosphere has completely died down. The place is a little trashed, but nothing seems to be broken. Most people have fallen asleep on the furniture, the floor, wherever they can rest. A few are still awake talking in hushed voices smoking quietly. I walk over to them, seeing that Token is one of them.

He looks up at me as I approach.

"So you really did ditch him huh?" He asks as I stop beside him.

"Where is he?" I ask quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, though I doubt anything would really wake most of those around us.

Token eyes me critically. Almost as if he doesn't want to tell me where Kyle is.

"Where _is_ he?" I ask again, this time with less patience and more force.

"Upstairs, Craig's room."

I tense, "Token if Craig did anyth-"

"Shut up," Token says icily. "Craig's stupid when he's drunk but he isn't an idiot. He wouldn't really do anything to Kyle, you know that. Why are you acting so protective anyway? The way Kyle talked about you made it seem like you don't give a fuck what happens to him."

"He's not my favorite person," I admit. "But I wouldn't sit back and let shit happen to him either. I'm not a cold hearted bastard."

Token shakes his head looking off in the darkness for a second, "ever since Kenny died," he pauses. "Dude, I just don't know about you anymore."

Token and I glare at each other for a moment before I turn and start to carefully make my way toward the stairs, avoiding stepping on a few people.

"Happy New Year," he mutters to me.

"Happy New Year Token," I state back calmly and start climbing up the stairs to Craig's room. I enter without knocking and see some eight people sprawled out on the floor and about four more squeezed on his bed. Kyle's in the very middle of them. As I think about how to go about getting him up without waking anyone else a noise catches my attention and I turn realizing that there's a figure awake in Craig's chair looking at me.

"I figured you'd come back for him," Craig says spinning listlessly in his desk chair.

"Yeah," I snort. "Help me wake him up."

"Nah, let him sleep, it was a crazy night."

I resist rolling my eyes, and resist mentioning what he did, again. "And how do you suggest we get him and not wake him up?"

"Just push James aside, he's a heavy sleeper, he won't even notice," Craig says slowly standing and walking over to his bed to do just that. I lean over beside him and gently try to pull Kyle up, but regardless that his body looks lean he still has muscle and he's still pretty damn heavy.

"Fucking hell," I mutter. "Help me out here will you?" I hiss at Craig and he drops James to the side to help me pull Kyle from between him and some girl I don't recognize. I heft Kyle into my arms and turn and hand him over to Craig so that I can move James back in place.

Once I've stepped over a few people I hold out my arms to accept Kyle again, and Craig hands him over, stepping over a few last people before he reaches out his hands to take Kyle. We keep doing this, handing Kyle back and forth between us until we reach outside his door, not having woken up a single person, Kyle included.

Taking him back finally, I walk carefully down the stairs, trying to look over Kyle's hair to mind the steps. It seems to be getting curly…

Once I've reached the bottom I grunt, as I readjust my hold on him and I see Token approach me and Craig from whoever he was talking to. Once outside they help me put Kyle in my car before backing out themselves.

"Thanks guys," I say nodding to them.

"Sure thing," Craig grins. "It was a fun night, as usual."

"Fun for who?" I mutter and Token chuckles quietly.

"Hey, whatever happened to you going over to kick Stan's ass by the way?" Craig asks. I turn to Token confused.

He laughs and rubs the back of his thick curly hair. "I got halfway there when I met up with Ferrari, beating him to a pulp didn't seem quite so important then."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "why exactly was I going to get an ass beating?"

"For being a shit to Kyle," Token says harshly, glaring at me.

I cast a glance at the redhead in question who's still fast asleep in the passenger's seat.

"Would it kill you to be nice to him? He was bad mouthing you a fair portion of the night," Craig says seriously, causing me to turn my head to look at him frowning.

"It's not about being nice or not being nice to him-"

"Yeah it is," they both cut me off.

I sigh, "I can't let it go you guys. What he did, up and leaving me…he hasn't even apologized for it, and some days he's just so much like Kenny…I just…" I sigh again, not being able to complete my sentence the way I want to.

"You just want to punish him," Token finishes for me. "You want him to hurt as much as you can, like he made you hurt."

Maybe, maybe that's exactly what I want to do.

"But then when do you decide when he's been punished enough? After eleven more years of your retribution?" He continues and I look at his passive face, and his folded arms. I glance over at Craig but he's looking in at Kyle who's stirring slightly before falling still.

"I made him eat something before he fell asleep," Craig speaks up not giving me the chance to answer Token's question, even though I had no intention on doing so, since I don't know the answer. "So he'll be fine come morning, no hangovers."

Craig suddenly yawns and stretches his arms grinning, "okay, time to head back in and get some sleep. I gotta clear people out before my folks get home tomorrow afternoon. You coming by to help clean up?" He asks me and I snort, walking into my car.

"No," I tell him firmly and shut the door and rolling down my windows.

"What?" He questions annoyed.

"I'm not the one who helped trash it," I say as an excuse. "I'll see you guys when I see you," I say to them, starting my engine.

Token gives me a look, but he nods and Craig frowns but waves me off. When Kyle and I get back to the apartment I unbuckle him and pick him up as best as I can from the seat. I have half a mind to just shove him awake and make him walk. It's his own fault for being passed out like this. But going against what I want to do I leave him be and heave him into my arms, kicking my car door shut with my foot.

I take a few unsteady paces before readjusting Kyle to fit a little better in my arms before feeling confident enough to walk up a set of stairs with him. Taking one step at a time I sigh in relief when I'm at the top. Managing somehow to put my keys in the door I bend down slightly to turn the knob and push open the door with my foot. Kicking it shut like I did with my car door I make my way blindly to Kyle's room, almost knocking into something.

It must have been the stupid vase.

Kyle's bedroom door is open, thank God, and I walk in dropping him on the bed, releasing a few deep breaths. His head lolls to the side and he mutters something in his sleep before becoming quiet again. The only thing I do is take off his shoes, he can sleep in his clothes for all I care, and remove his cell and keys from his jacket pocket, placing them on his dresser.

Pulling his comforter over his body I stop when I'm close enough to Kyle's sleeping face.

I've just noticed something. I'm tucking him in.

It sounds…weird to put those terms to it. I can't remember the last time I tucked anyone in. I never even tucked in Kenny after he got piss drunk. He'd always swat my hands away in drunken annoyance, claiming he could do it himself just fine, even though he couldn't.

_You just want to punish him._

Token's words ring in my head.

_Your own personal dart board._

Mr. Zanadaci's ring beside his.

They've both figured out something I hadn't consciously realized. Yeah. I'm punishing Kyle, yeah he is my personal dart board. I do blame him for leaving, I hate that he did. I hate that he didn't show up to Kenny's funeral or the burial service, I'm pissed as fuck that I have to be here with him and do this agreement with him.

_But then when do you decide when he's been punished enough? After eleven more years of your retribution?_

I watch Kyle's sleeping face, placing a hand over his mouth and nose to assure myself that he's breathing.

11 years of my retribution? It's trivial, and I might burn in hell for not being able to forgive but 11 years of punishment for Kyle seems perfectly fine to me….maybe I'm exaggerating just a little.

Pulling the comforter further up to Kyle so it's up to his chin I study him with impassive eyes. He may have comforted me on Christmas, and I may have liked what I felt, but it doesn't replace all my past feelings. I never told Kenny, and I often wondered if he knew anyway. But even when I was at my most happiest with him, even when we couldn't have been closer as friends, I couldn't help thinking about the 'what if'.

What if Kyle was here? I always thought as we did something. What would Kyle say? What's Kyle doing right now? It's always been like a broken record for me.

I stand and shake my head. It isn't healthy for me to dwell on what might've been. In exchange for Kyle's friendship I gained Kenny…but still, what would it have been like to have them both? That's something I won't ever get to know.

Retreating out of his room, I slowly start to close the door, but I stop just as it's only an inch or so opened. "I don't think I can forgive you," I mutter to his sleeping frame and close the door soundly, heading for my own bedroom to get some much needed rest.

**Kyle**

"I don't think I can forgive you," he says to me, thinking I'm still asleep and leaving my room.

I woke up slightly when I realized I was in my own bed, but I didn't feel the need to fully wake up. I was vaguely aware that I was no longer at Craig's and that I wasn't surrounded by a massive amount of body heat, but I wasn't entirely sure how I got to my own room before I felt Stan pull my covers over me.

How did he get me here?

That I don't remember, but as he leaves I open my eyes and stare at my door.

Why can't he let the past go? Why does he insist on not letting it go? Things won't get better between us if he doesn't. We've come so far, and to hear him say that? I wish I hadn't woken up.

I turn and readjust myself in my bed, I'm uncomfortable and its when I notice I'm still in my clothes. I'm uncomfortable but I can't fathom moving from my current position.

I try to go back to sleep, but I can't. What he said just keeps replaying over and over in my head. He thought I was asleep when he said that but I wasn't. How can I face him tomorrow knowing that he truly has no intention on making things better between us? No intention what so ever. I can make him talk as much as I want, pry into his life with questions, I can smile and laugh and try to act like maybe we'll be close one day but…

I have to work tomorrow; I have to get some sleep…

-

…I reach over slowly to turn off my alarm. I didn't sleep at all. Not a wink. Sitting up I run a hand through my hair, a little alarmed when it gets caught in snags and curls. It's supposed to be straight. I sigh, cursing this goddamn mountain air. Climbing out of bed I grab the clothes I plan to wear today and head into the bathroom to get ready. Once I head for the kitchen to get something to eat I stare at the note from Stan.

_Didn't have that much time to make anything extravagant. Breakfast is waffles from scratch, lunch is a few chicken salad sandwiches and dinner is a tortellini dish. Directions are below. Craig said you wouldn't have a hangover, but call if you need anything._

It goes to list the directions for everything and I read them tiredly before opening the fridge and looking at the plate of waffles.

How can he continuously make meals for someone he has such a grudge against? I don't get it. I take the plate of waffles and watch as I dump them into the trash can. Instead I reach through the cupboards, I know I bought cereal, even if a month later I still haven't seen any traces of it.

A few minutes later I come back out of the deeper cupboard with three boxes. Choosing one I pour a bowl adding milk and sit quietly, as is usual with me, to eat. I read the back of the box for slight entertainment until I've finished draining the bowl. Washing up and making sure I've got everything I need, I grab the lunch Stan made me along with everything else and head out for work.

"Hey Kyle!" Chef greets me as I walk in through the back.

"Morning Chef," I say back and place my stuff in my locker.

"How was your New Years? You don't look hung over."

"Yeah, I'm not sure how that is. I know I had plenty to drink."

"Where did you go?" He asks as he starts to look over some paperwork.

"I went to Craig's party."

"Craig'sparty? And you're alive?" Chef chuckles as he puts on his apron.

"Yeah," I snort. "Even you know he has a little habit of hitting on people when he's drunk?"

"Oh yeah, I hear you children complain about it a lot, but aside from that he's a good guy. I didn't know you children were still friends. You never mentioned it."

Putting on my own apron, I punch in and head for the front of the restaurant, "actually I just got reacquainted with him last night. Him and everyone else actually…and give or take a few things I had fun yesterday."

"Good," Chef pauses in what he's doing to look up and grin at me. "You ready to work? We should start off making a continuous amount of coffee," he says cheerfully and I nod in agreement. We're sure to have a lot of people, more than usual, who need it after last night.

The place gets busy soon enough, and not surprising, the thing I serve the most is coffee, as both Chef and I expected. During the lunch hour rush the girls come by and I grace them with small smiles.

"Happy New Year ladies," I say to them, smiling tiredly as Porscha pulls me down next to her.

"You too cutie, we didn't see you at Craig's party," she says as I begin writing down their usual order.

"I was there," I tell her honestly. "But I didn't see any of you either."

"I was mostly upstairs," Lexus says giggling.

"Oh, me too, actually," Porscha says as an afterthought. I look to Mercedes who shakes her head.

"I was on the first floor, but there were so many people I'm not surprised I didn't see you sweetie. Shame, it would have been fun to see you outside of Cherry Kiss." I nod in agreement. "So did you have fun Red?" She continues to ask me.

"Yeah, I met a lot of my old friends. I hung mostly with Token and Craig."

"Oooh," Porscha says to herself. "That Token has grown up so much, he's so hot."

"Definitely," Lexus agrees with a firm nod. "And he's really gentle too."

I raise my eyebrow at her, "what do you mean gentle?" I ask knowing full well. Lexus reddens and shoves me playfully.

"You know what I mean cutie, and aren't you supposed to be working?" She giggles.

"Right," I smile, "I'll be back with your orders then."

"Take your time darling," Mercedes purrs as I walk away.

Once the girls have left I fall back into my usual return of nursing a few hangovers with the blackest coffee Chef can pump out. Come my lunch break I pull out the sandwiches Stan made me. They smell heavenly, but they make my stomach knot and I toss them in the garbage, deciding to eat something from the Kiss menu.

Getting back home to the ever empty apartment I open the fridge with a sigh and glance at the tortellini and the directions. It seems like way too much work, and the note does mention that whatever sauce Stan used on them is only good for 12 hours. Tossing _that_ in the garbage I settle on another peanut butter and jam sandwich. Not gourmet, and definitely not as good as what Stan made me, but it fills me up and that's all that matters.

I decide to take out my notebook and work some on my online classes. I'm still in the middle of typing up a paper when Stan walks in later. Not bothering to look over at him I continue typing, trying to keep my focus on the paper about business theory.

"You didn't eat the tortellini?" Comes Stan's surprised voice after a few minutes of him rustling about in the kitchen.

I stop typing and look firmly at the screen. "The sauce was past the time frame you said I could eat it at."

"Oh," he responds and I go back to typing. I hear a few more sounds of rustling and of the microwave going on. After awhile Stan walks past me heading for his bedroom with a plate of something I don't catch. "Night," he says already closing his door.

"Night," I mutter back.

I haven't seen him all day, and that's the best we could manage to say to each other. No mention of last night, nothing of the kiss Craig landed on me, no mention of how I got home, the state I was in or what he dared to say to me.

The next few days are no better. It's like the time we weren't talking or looking at each other. I don't know if Stan even realizes anything has changed. He's home so little because of the impending meeting with Zanadaci and private investors, and with classes starting again. If I didn't stay up at night to see him walk in from Bebe's I probably wouldn't see him for days straight.

Mr. Zanadaci swings by from his office another time but when he does Stan isn't home. I tell him of my roommates new hours and he resolves to stop by his brother's place to check on him. He asks his usual questions, and I give honest answers. He doesn't seem happy to hear them, and the advice he gives me falls short, as there is nothing more I can do, or want to do. What I don't tell him is of what I heard Stan say to me when he thought I was sleeping. That he didn't think he could ever forgive me, no, that…I keep to myself.

The few times Stan randomly comes home early enough not to want to go straight to bed, we end up fighting. Bitter fights that have no resolve, and usually have no meaning for getting started. Our most recent one is now. We're three weeks into the new year and he's just now realizing I've stopped eating the food he makes me.

"Why didn't you just tell me instead of making me waste my fucking time!"

"When the fuck would I tell you, when you're at school, at work, at Bebe's?!" I yell back.

"You could leave a note, like all the ones I leave for you!"

"Unlike you, I like to look at a person when I have something to say to them!"

Stan glares at me and yanks open the fridge, "we've been wasting food for no damn reason!" He mutters more to himself, but obviously I can hear him.

I slump annoyed on the lounge chair. "What are you even doing back so early?" I ask after a long tense pause. "Shouldn't you be anywhere but here?"

"Bebe's at her mother's, they're having some mother daughter talk or something. I don't fucking know," he mutters. "So that means I have to cook something. If you hadn't thrown it out what I made you we could have shared that."

"Don't bring up the goddamn food again!" I almost yell dangerously at him.

"How could I not, it really pisses me off that you did that!"

"Everything I do pisses you off!" I shout at the top of my lungs looking over at him angrily.

That's right…everything, every single thing I do annoys him, irritates him…the feeling is practically mutual.

**Stan**

I glare at him back. I have every right to be pissed at him, especially now. All that time I thought I was saving him from starving to death…

I'm tense as I take out the pots I need to make a fast dinner. The faster we eat, the faster we can leave each other alone. Not caring much to impress Kyle I've only fixed a basic spaghetti and a nothing special Cesar salad. The air is still very tense, and I'm still very pissed as hell. I can tell he is too. As he sets out the plates and utensils as I add the final touches to the dishes and set them on the table without a word. Sitting down on our normal chairs we both make a move for the spaghetti, and as if slapped we both halt in our advances.

I advance again and Kyle's sharp voice cuts me off, "don't you think I should have some first?"

"Why, I made it," I snap back at him.

"Exactly, I thought the cook was always the last one to eat his food."

"I've never heard such a thing."

"Well it isn't my fault if you haven't heard of common knowledge and manners," he scowls here and watches as I take a big helping of the spaghetti. "Guess I can't expect much from someone raised in such a hick town."

I dropped the spaghetti forcefully on my plate to glare at him, "you live here too!" I growl at him.

"Temporarily!" He seethes back at me.

"You lived here when you were little and you never had a problem with this hick town!"

Kyle snorted back a fake laugh, "of course I did. Look who and what I had to deal with everyday! Your bitch sister, Cartman, and the rest of these god forsaken shit people! Of course I hated it! Why do you think I put up next to no resistance in moving to California!"

Even he seems to realize he's gone too far. He has the decency to look at his plate somewhat guilty but my hands are already balling into fists as I try to keep my cool.

"No one is asking for you to stay here," I say calmly, but it probably sounds more like what it is, repressed anger.

Kyle pauses for a minute, looking at his plate. Something in my stomach lurches when he looks back up at me. "You're doing this on purpose," he starts quietly. "You're trying to make me hate you on purpose!" His voice ends in a near yell as he shoves his chair back to glower at me.

Scooting my own chair back I calmly pick up my plate and dump its contents in the garbage, before dropping my dish in the sink and make my way to my room. I don't want to talk to him anymore tonight.

Before I walk into my bedroom I turn to look back at him, I need to at least correct him. "Well, you can't possibly like me; you must hate me by now." I raise an eyebrow at him curiously ready to head for my room when I'm jerked by the arm as he grabs my wrist. I'm about to open my mouth in protest when Kyle suddenly slams my body into the wall, knocking my head.

A flash of black cuts across my vision before it comes back, my eyes instantly falling upon Kyle's. They're surging with an anger and that I have never seen in his eyes.

"No I don't!" He yells, again slamming me harder into the wall. "Stop acting the pathetic whiny asshole. You say you don't want it, but you need people to feel sorry for you, and frankly I'm fucking sick of it. Kenny died, okay, I know! You're sad, that's understandable, but there's no reason to go sulking around like nothing else matters."

I blink hard at him, "not much else does matter."

"Do you want me to fucking snap your neck?!" He pulls me away from the wall and shakes my body violently. I'm trying to think of why I'm not fighting back. "I'm tired of you walking around like a fucking zombie, and then suddenly getting pissed for no reason, I'm tired of all the confusing and whirlwind emotions! You're being a needy selfish shit! Anytime I try to help you out, you shove me away saying you don't need me. And you don't want to forgive me, isn't that right? Isn't that what you said to me when you thought I was asleep? Well guess what you stupid fucker? You don't have too because I'm out of here!"

Kyle stops and glances to the side to take in deep angry inhales before finally looking back up at me. The slight embarrassment at the thought that he heard what I had said New Years night and my anger dissipate as I see the realization and _finality_ on his face. "Someone did ask me to stay here," he says suddenly referring to Kenny. "But I don't even think he'd want us to be like this. We're not happy, we're at each others throats night and day when we're actually around each other. Stan, we're not helping one another, I'm not helping you…I just slammed you into a fucking wall…we can't do this anymore, I can't do this anymore. Clearly we're going bat shit insane being together."

I pause reflecting on that, "…_you're _the one banging my skull into a wall trying to kill me."

Kyle gives me a pained look, "this living situation is over."

"W-what?"

"Don't act so _surprised_...I'm _sick_ of being ignored and left behind, and snapped at, and-and…you must really miss Bebe and must want the wedding to resume as planned."

"Please…" I start slowly, "Do not suggest that again."

Kyle sighs releasing me from his grasp and walking over to the couch slumping on it, "look…" he halts briefly. "We tried, but goddamn we failed…hard. Kenny can't have asked for more than that. We're too different and too hostile. You can't tell me you want to live like this for another two and half months? It'd be pure fucking hell."

My breath quickens and I rub the back of my head slightly. Walking tentatively toward Kyle I release a shaky sigh and slump beside him. He looks over tiredly, and I wrap my arms around myself, taking in what he's suggesting, "but the agreement," I begin.

Kyle frowns at me, "do you want the money that bad?"

"It isn't about the fucking money!" I almost shout appalled. "I'm not gold digging! I never agreed to do this for the money, I'm doing it because Kenny asked me and because I want his personal belongings! Did you forget that I can't have those either unless we fulfill the agreement?"

"I'm sure if you talked with Mr. Zanadaci-"

"No," I cut him off. "It's a part of the agreement and Kenny would never allow a loop hole. If we don't do this, we get nothing, I get nothing."

"What could Kenny have that you want so much?!" Kyle asks me exasperated.

"Pictures! Letters! Journals, any other shit that could remind me of my best friend. He kept most of the things we gathered together over the years, and I want them!"

"I'm sorry, and I understand Stan, but we don't even like each other! Look at us now, we're fighting, which is no surprise to either of us! I can't stand living like this! And I'm not like you where I at least have other good friends I can turn to! You're my only real male friend here in South Park and we're not even friends! We're just two guys in a fucked up situation in where we're stuck together! I want to go home; I don't want to do this anymore!"

I look away from him a feeling of defeat on my face as I look around at the apartment, hoping some answer to get Kyle to change his mind will pop up. He can't really be serious…but he sure seems it. I mean he slammed me and my head into a wall for Christ's sake! I know we haven't been getting along, I know I haven't let him in or invited him to have dinner with Bebe and I, and I realize that my behavior is partly due to my want of punishing him, but I _never_ imagined on breaking the agreement. I can't do that! I thought that if anything he'd at least want to stick this out with me till the very end.

"Well I still do!" I say turning back to him. "Before Kenny died he told me to promise him two things. To not cry over his funeral, which I did, and to bring you to it, which I didn't! I broke both those promises; don't make me break this one!"

Kyle looks slightly taken aback. "You promised him you'd get me to his funeral?"

"Yes!"

"…you didn't break that promise Stan. You did get me to come; I just didn't show up in time."

"It doesn't matter; to me, I still failed him."

"Well you didn't okay?" Kyle shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but no."

This isn't the time to be getting angrier but I can't help but remind him that he had said that he wanted to do this for Kenny. "Do you remember when you said that?! You said you wanted to do this for him, you promised him when you signed the agreement! I even asked you that night of his funeral when you stayed the night, if you really wanted to do this and you said you did, for his sake!"

"I know! I know what I've said and I know what I'm doing! Do you think I'm happy at the idea of leaving things like this, leaving _us_ like this?! But it's just a fact, this," he moves his hand back and forth between himself and me, "is how we act, and I hate acting like this, I hate fighting, and I hate most of all...is being ignored and looked down on. I'm going and you can't change my mind...I'm sorry I really am," he whispers and stands from the couch, picking up his jacket and putting on his shoes.

I'm losing this, how the fuck can I be losing this? I decide to make another attempt. "Kyle, okay so you're not happy living with me and I'm not happy living with you…but are you unhappy?"

His eyes glaze over slightly and they don't seem to want to meet my eyes, eventually he does and I sigh disappointed. "Yes, I am." With that he stands and leaves the apartment, locking it behind him.

I look frozen at the spot Kyle just occupied. He's unhappy? I make him unhappy?

I mean I know I piss him off and that I frustrate him but…I didn't know that he really felt this heavily about it. I run a tight hand through my hair, yanking out a few strands, but the pain of it doesn't even bother me.

When the fuck did things turn for the worse like this? Hadn't we only just been arguing over the fact that he hasn't been eating my food lately? When did it change from that to Kyle wanting to break the agreement?! Aggravated I push up from the couch, my eyes landing on the one thing I've never liked. Kyle's never even liked it, but there it is, still taking space, oddly meant to be a compromise. Some fucking compromise. I walk over to the vase looking at it as it gleams, catching a strand of the ceiling light. "You're such a hypocritical asshole," I say quietly reaching up and knocking it over, stepping away from it just in time as it crashes to the ground.

Studying the broken shattered pieces that have fallen everywhere something occurs to me and I roll my eyes annoyed with my idiocy. We didn't buy that vase, it's just a rental.

A knock on the front door jerks me from my thoughts and I make my way carefully to the door, avoiding the shards of the vase to look through the peep hole. Mr. Zanadaci. I open the door stare and at Kenny's lawyer.

"Hey Mr. Zanadaci."

"Good evening Stan, you don't sound well. Is everything okay?"

"Not really," I say to him, opening the door further for him and gesturing to the broken vase with my head. "I broke the vase," I add. "Did you want some dinner? There's extra."

"No…thank you, are you alright? You didn't cut yourself?"

"I'm fine," I shrug wondering why he still won't enter the apartment.

"I didn't want to interrupt you and Kyle from eating-"

I cut him off, "you haven't, as you can see Kyle is nowhere in sight, he left."

Zanadaci doesn't look surprised, "you two _have_ been fighting again then?"

I gesture for him enter but he stays standing where he is outside the door.

"Yeah, over the usual pointless crap," I tell him quietly.

"But you sound different this time around."

"Kyle wants to break the agreement," I can't hide my dejection.

"He does?" Mr. Zanadaci sounds extremely appalled, but I nod. He turns to look behind him and it's when I realize Kyle was standing off to the side. I hadn't noticed him there.

"You didn't mention that," he says to him before turning back to me. "Kyle and I ran into each other as he was leaving and as I was coming up, rather convenient don't you think?"

I shrug indifference and Mr. Zanadaci finally walks inside followed closely by Kyle who ignores me. As I close the door and step over the broken vase I lean into the comfortable lounge chair. Zanadaci stands as does Kyle to stare at the mess.

"Are you an idiot?" Kyle mumbles as he looks at the black shards. "We didn't buy that thing you know."

"I realized that _after _I broke it."

"After…" Kyle mutters before his head snaps back up at me. "You broke it _on purpose_!?"

"Boys," Mr. Zanadaci says warningly, much like a parent, cutting into our conversation. "Before there's any more talk let's clean up this mess shall we? I wouldn't like for anyone to get cut on accident."

Gathering the cleaning supplies we all silently pick up the bigger pieces of the vase and then finally vacuum the smaller bits, tossing it all into the garbage can when we're done. Zanadaci takes a seat on one of the dining chairs, after bringing it into the living room, Kyle takes the lounge chair and I sprawl on the couch. The coffee table is separating us and I'm not sure about him, but I'm doing everything to look at everything but him, but it's hard.

"Now then," the lawyer begins. "Kyle, you truly want to break the agreement?"

Kyle nods.

"Why?"

"…it's…it's not working out Mr. Zanadaci. We fight constantly and I'm just not happy. I haven't got any good friends or family here and with the way things are being held against me…well, things get a little lonely that way you know?"

He nods, and I look at Kyle who keeps his eyes on the older man. "And Stan do you want to break the agreement as well?"

"No."

"Why not, you're not happy either are you? I can tell."

"I'm doing what Kenny asked of me, I want his personal belongings and even though I'm not happy or pleased with how things are going," I turn to Kyle who is looking at me. "I'm not exactly unhappy, and Kyle I didn't realize you were."

He rubs what is most likely a non-existent itch on his shoulder. I continue to look at Kyle but from the corner of my eye I can see that Mr. Z is looking back and forth at us. He stops when it seems he's come to an inner solution.

"Hmm," he says as he stands. "Kenny did not anticipate this, though…I did. And as I have his permission to take care of things he may have forgotten or overlooked I…_will_ begin the paperwork to dissolve the agreement and go about finding a home for his assets other than the government. It'll probably take about a week and after that you're both free to go where you please."

"But Kenny's stuff!" I say protesting to him. How can everything we've done be so easy to dissolve?

"I'm sorry Stan, the agreement left no ambiguity. Without the four and a half months neither of you get a thing, not Kenny's personal belongings nor the funds. I truly am sorry…I should be getting home. I only came to check on you boys as usual, I'll contact you when I have things set up for the dissolve." He glances at the stand where the vase usually is and sighs, "have a good evening boys, try to be civil for one last week."

"Night Mr. Zanadaci," we both mutter together. I listen as he leaves the apartment without another word.

Neither Kyle nor I move from our spots across from each other and a lingering silence shifts between us. I should be furious at him, at what he's making me do, but I can't be. Because, really…where we are…is mostly my own fault.

I don't even like admitting it to myself but…Kyle's tried, he really has. He was always around for me I needed him but I only pushed him away. Saying I didn't need or want him. And then I would run off to one of my many friends, or to Bebe, leaving him alone. I haven't even attempted to make him feel welcome here. Besides Chef, he hasn't really re- befriended any of our old friends. I've talked to Craig, and Token and some of the other guys. They haven't seen Kyle since New Years. He gets up, goes to work and comes home. He does nothing else. I am the only one he really knows and I have been ignoring him and treating him like shit. Of course he's unhappy, and now he's leaving me because of it.

And the strange thing is…I don't want him to go. And it isn't because of Kenny or the agreement its because now that he's reentered my life I can't really see it without him, even if all we do is fight. The regular fights have become a part of my life and I don't particularly want to change that.

Kyle suddenly stands, "goodnight," he says to me stiffly and walks back to his room before I can say anything in response.

This is no good, this isn't what I want, and I know I'm being selfish just like he said I am, but I'm not going to allow Kyle to abandon me for a second time. I realize my whole intention has been to punish him for what he did to me in the past and now that it's come to this I have no idea what to do.

I just know I don't want him to leave. He can do anything else but that.

**AN: **Okay. Take a deep breath…good? Okay then. Chapter 22 will be out shortly. Promise, it's already written actually, so you don't have to wait in agony. Maybe…Saturday? Saturday it is. Oh, and I know I promised to update yesterday (I must seem like a flake), but I was going too! I have a good excuse and you're going to listen to it. :) FF wouldn't let me log in, go forth and beat them with fangirl sticks!…you ah /shifts eyes around/ didn't hear that from me.

**-FG**


	22. Stan V

**AN: **This chapter is short, but I wanted it to be all about Stan and his angst and I DID NOT want to draw this out. They'll be other things to draw out XD.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

I haven't moved from my position on the couch. I keep staring at the stand where the vase used to be. I flicker my eyes back and forth from that and Kyle's closed door. I wonder what he's doing in there. If he's calming himself down, or maybe he's seething with rage trying not to do what I did, break something.

Either way he's away from me, which is what he wants most of all.

I bury my face in my hands. God, I am such an idiot. I've spent so much time disliking Kyle and trying to make him suffer the way I did that I never realized that he might actually go and do something like this. But of all the things, why leave me? Why do that again….he could have done anything else. He could have fought me, verbally attacked me, he could have keyed my car for all I fucking care…but to leave, to abandon? It's like repeating the past all over again.

And this isn't even like me, the way I've been acting isn't me at all. I know Kenny must be disappointed at my behavior, even Token noticed that I'm not the same.

I used to laugh till my sides hurt, I used to be good in class, I used to spend every waking minute with the people I loved most. Whether it was my parents, my friends… I've never been like this and I didn't realize how tiring it was to be such a melancholic ass until I realized I might not get to be one for much longer.

Zanadaci said the papers to dissolve the agreement would be completed in a week. Does that mean Kyle's out of here in seven days? I want to ask, I need to know…but I'm sure the last thing he wants to look at is my face right now.

"Oh god, Kenny, I'm so sorry," I mutter into my hands.

I'm a horrible best friend, the worst. I raise my feet on the couch and rest my head on the arm. Who the fuck am I? Who is this guy who cries, and won't accept any help from anyone? Who pushes away his fiancée, his parents, his friends, the one guy he wish had never left him in the first place…?

When Kyle leaves, then what? The agreements over. He goes back home, and I get to have what I've been saying I wanted. Him gone.

_I don't want another best friend. I don't want you here. To be blunt, I don't like you._

I squeeze my eyes shut. I said that to him…right after he had gone through the trouble of fixing a cut for me.

Reopening my eyes I glance out at the large picture window. It really is one of those picturesque views that we have in this apartment. We're damn lucky to have it, but the window isn't something either of us have paid much attention too. The kitchen was my first interest and now I feel almost bad for neglecting the window, as if it's a person. It really has the view from the books. Big ass stars twinkling, the trees lining the mountains, with the moon filling up half the sky…we get a good sunrise through this window and I've never paid it any mind.

Kenny's in heaven. He's gotta be. Of course he sinned a lot, especially when we were kids, but he never meant anyone any harm, and he did so much he had to have been forgiven…if I ever find out that he hasn't been forgiven I'll curse God and swear my allegiance to Satan.

I sigh…fuck I sigh a lot now, and look away from the window. I probably shouldn't say shit like that. I feel like this should be one of those moments you always hear about. Now is the perfect time for Kenny's ghost to appear and give some great advice on what I should do. Or maybe he should knock on the door and I discover he really, truly didn't die, and that he just got backed up in purgatory…something like that. That's how it's supposed to be.

But like I had thought before, all the weird adventures and things that happened to this town stopped happening after Kyle left, and he may be back now but it's not the same.

…Kyle.

What am I going to do about him?

We're exactly the same height, give or take a millimeter or two. He looks like someone who stepped right out of the fashion industry he seems so over the top with. If I compared a picture of his nine year old self with his current self, I'd still have a hard time finding the similarities…except his eyes. Those are exactly the same. But his skin is slowly starting to get a bit paler since there's no longer the California sun to darken it, and his hair is starting to get curly again. I think that annoys him, I swear I've seen him trying to straighten it with a brush, ending only in him getting annoyed and throwing the brush across his room.

It's like South Park is turning him back into what he was before he left. But its something he doesn't seem to want to be anymore because he's putting up one hell of a fight.

If he did stay what would happen? Can I promise I'd be nicer to him? I could try but…fuck. Why the fuck _can't _I let this old past shit go?! I need too, its even bugging the shit out of me! I want to be able to just forgive and forget, let him be the friend I know he's trying to be. But I can't, I can't! I can't let a back stabber be a friend again. Once you trample on the trust you don't get to have it back! That's something I've always felt strong about.

I tried to give Kyle a second chance as I wrote all those letters to him after I had visited him in California for the first and last time. I knew he was ignoring me, even if till this day I don't know what for. I just kept thinking, _he's only being an ass for a little while, just keep writing him and he'll turn around_. I was angry at him in a lot of those letters, but even if they started out angry, they always ending with me saying that as long as he wrote back I'd act like this little…thing, he had been doing had never happened. But he never did write back, so now he doesn't get to be forgiven.

And if he leaves again, then I'll really never forgive him, I'll never even think about him again. I'll find all the crap I have from him from when we were little and burn it all to cleanse him out of my mind.

I push my head into the side of the couch closing my eyes.

Has he forgotten about that? Is that why he hasn't apologized to me, because he doesn't remember all those letters I sent him? I know I reminded him that part of the reason I have a grudge against him is because he left me, but does he remember the constant letters? I must have sent about fifty over the course of a year. He wouldn't really forget them…would him?

Am I that easy to throw away?

I've never been able to figure out why he did that. Why he ignored the letters. They never came back to me, so I know he got them, and that's always what hurt me the most. If I had at leas gotten them back I could blame the postal service, but I didn't get a single one returned to me.

I must be easy to throw away if he can do it again.

I find myself thinking back to one of the few times I brought up Kyle to Kenny. We had been at his house for once, a rare occurrence for obvious reason, but his parents weren't home and Kevin was nowhere to be seen either.

"_Why do you think he hasn't contacted me?" I had asked out of the blue. _

We had been playing video games and most of our talk prior to bringing up Kyle had been swears of anger and/or yells of triumph.

"_What?" Kenny responded, eyes still glued on the screen as he bent to the side with the car he was racing. _

"…_Kyle. Why do you think he hasn't contacted me?"_

I think it was a year after Kyle had left, after I visited him from California, before I started sending all the letters.

"_I don't know, maybe he's busy."_

"_Busy doing what?"_

"_I don't know, oh shit!" He cursed and I turned my head warily back to watch as his car barely dodged going off a cliff. "Whew, that was close I almost died."_

"_Kenny."_

"_Dude."_

_I sighed and let my car get run over by a semi._

"_Dude! You just let that guy run over you like road kill!" Kenny had protested tossing his controller out of his hands in annoyance as the game was declared over. I said nothing and he looked over at me. "I don't _know_ why Kyle hasn't contacted you man, stop asking me okay?"_

"_But I'm his _best friend_. Maybe something happened to him!"_

_Kenny stood and headed for his kitchen and I followed closely behind. "Nothing happened to him," he replied warily as he shifted through his cupboards taking out a dirty glass and filling it with water._

"_How do you know?"_

"_Don't you think his mom and dad would have called us or something? It's not like he's been gone for a decade you know?"_

"_Then what? Should I accept that he's hasn't contacted me because he doesn't want to?"_

"_Yeah. Like I said, maybe he's busy."_

"_Busy doing what?" _

"_I said I DON'T KNOW! Fucking Christ…why are you worrying about it so much, he'll come back."_

"_How do you know that?"_

"_Because it's Kyle. Even if he doesn't come back, I'll get him to come back for you."_

"_What could you do?"_

_Kenny shrugged and headed back into the living room picking up his controller. "How am I supposed to know, I can't tell the future. But I'll get him back for you okay? So just chill the fuck out and let's play some Racer."_

_I sat back down beside him and picked up my controller, watching as Ken made his car on the screen. I eyed him closely, trying to get those blue eyes to look my way, but he was intent on keeping his eyes on the screen to make his race car._

"_Look Stan if I promise I'll get Kyle back will you stop looking at me like you're trying to read my brain?_

_I nodded._

"_Fine. I'll get Kyle back, I promise…but I don't know when, so be fucking patient for once and when he does come back don't fuck it up."_

"_Why would I do that?"_

"_Fucking hell Stan!" He turned to me aggravation all over his face. "I don't know!"_

I turn back to the window. So I didn't get a ghost of Kenny, and I didn't get the real thing to tell me what to do, but a memory I thought I had forgotten serves just fine. Kenny got Kyle to come back for me, yeah it was under some fucked up circumstances, that he had to die…but Kyle's back, oddly thanks to Kenny, so I'll be damned if I let him go anywhere other than stay where he is right now. In South Park, in this apartment, right here with me…

"Did you know this Kenny?" I ask out loud. "Did you know I'd get so lonely without you?" But I'm not really alone. I have more friends and family than the average person. I ought to feel lucky, I am lucky. I know this. But if Kyle leaves why do I feel like I'll be completely alone?

I rest the back of my hand on my forehead, "jeez, what a mess," I mutter quietly.

My heart skips a few beats at the abrupt sound of my cell phone going off from my room. Hmm…to get up or to not get up? I'm rather content where I am. Sighing begrudgingly I stand up and walk to my room, glancing at Kyle's door silently before walking in my room and picking up my phone.

"Yeah?" I say into it without looking at who called.

"Oh honey what's wrong?" I hear the sound of my mom on the other line.

I scratch my head absentmindedly and fall back on my bed. "Why do you think something's wrong?"

"It's the way you answered…a mother knows these things you know."

I snort as I turn to rest on my side. "What's up?" I ask her, dodging her question.

"Oh right, I was wondering if you could come by tomorrow. Your father ruined his back trying to lift something into the attic. Even after I _specifically _told him to wait until I could call you to help him."

I hesitate, "when?"

"Anytime is fine. I know you have class and work, so maybe you could come by after you get off work? Then you could stay for dinner."

"I don't know mom," I say picking at a piece of lint on my comforter.

"Stanley Marsh I haven't seen you since Christmas. You are coming by tomorrow, you are helping me lift those boxes back into the attic, we are going to make dinner together and you are going to bring Kyle, he can help too. Is that understood?"

"Mom," my voice cracks and I bury my head into my pillow. For half a second I had forgotten all about Kyle as I imagined my dad resting on his stomach having thrown out his back – again.

"…I knew something was bothering you, what is it sweetie?"

"I…I don't think I'll be able to get Kyle to come tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"…he wants to break the agreement Kenny made."

"He what?" She sounds completely surprised.

"Because I…" I stop. I don't have the heart to tell my mom that I've been acting like a complete stranger. She wouldn't understand, she wouldn't know who I was talking about. I've almost always been her sweet handsome little boy. "He just does."

"Well you're not going to let him are you?" She asks me firmly and I sniff to the side. "Don't you let him leave you again Stan. If he does that again, I just don't what's going to happen to you."

"W-what?" I ask, sitting up slowly and staring straight ahead.

"Oh honestly dear, you don't think I didn't notice how it affected you when Kyle left? You don't think I haven't seen how you've been since he came back? That Christmas façade you boys tried to put on didn't fool me for a second. I know you boys haven't been getting along, and I'm sure it's both your faults. But Kyle isn't gone yet, you remember that. Now then, what time can I expect you over tomorrow? How about eight? Tell Zanadaci to let you off early, if he doesn't want to have him to give me a call. I'll straighten him out."

My moms still talking, but I'm barely registering any of her information.

"And you better not have zoned out on me young man," her voice cuts in firmly, but it quickly softens, and even if I can't see her, I can visualize her smiling on her end. "I'll see you tomorrow honey, don't forget to bring Kyle."

"…yeah. Okay mom. See you tomorrow."

**AN: **/huggles Stan plushie/ I liked the little bits of Kenny ironically predicting the future in this chapter. And I have some rather EXCITING news! Well its at least exciting for me, but I can't say yet! I'll mention it next chapter, which will be updated in the future! I'm such a tease. XD

**-FG**


	23. Stan and Kyle VI

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

I decide to skip my classes, as this is going to be my last ditch effort. I have one week to change Kyle's mind. I'm not going to let him walk away from this and everything we've…_mostly_ worked hard for. I can't let it end like this. With Kyle going back to California, probably never planning on seeing me again or even, if he can help it, flying over Colorado. It isn't even just about Kenny anymore, and how he got Kyle back for me. We agreed to do something together, the both of us. It was done on paper and verbally. I realize now that where we've gotten to, to the point that Kyle wants to leave is mostly…if not all my fault. But it's never too late right? I can still repair the gap that I created. I've got to fill it, I have to.

I won't let him leave me again. If he leaves…this time I have no one to turn to. I don't want to try and figure out who I can turn to.

Even after my resolve to get Kyle to stay here I ended staying up most of the night thinking of the past two months, thinking of _all_ my reactions, how cold I was…how distant. And I think of how much Kyle tried, he smiled more than he probably wanted to. With his fake grins and false laughter to try and cheer me up, and I just snapped at him, or worse I ignored him and left him alone. It's not that we need to be together twenty four hours a day seven days a week. It's that I barely gave him a few hours of my time after the initial move in withh the way I made myself busy, going to Bebe's, working overtime at work, or studying at school rather than coming home to study.

Why wouldn't he get lonely? We never bought a television and aside from work Kyle never had it in him to venture out and really meet new people. I don't know if it's because he's shy or if it's awkward for him to try in fit inside a town he no longer belongs to anymore.

When Kyle wakes up he walks in silently and sits down at the dining table and looks at his plate.

I slaved over the breakfast. He'll probably see it for what it is, sucking up, and making a last effort to win any points to make him stay.

He sighs into his plate and eats silently, never glancing at me, and not saying a word. When he finishes he leans back in his chair and looks at me.

"It was a very good breakfast Stan, thank you," he says to me.

I give him a smile, but I can feel how it wavers. I'm almost nervous at what I'm trying to do. I want him to see if he can give me another chance. If he'll allow me to make things right. I haven't really smiled at him much, if ever…I can't even remember. And to start now…I feel awkward doing it.

He stands from his chair and brings his plate to the sink. When he lowers it in, he stops and stares at the smooth metallic basin. "I ordered my plane ticket last night by phone. My plane leaves Denver in a week. After we sign the papers to dissolve the agreement I'm heading to the airport." With that he steps away from the sink to look at me. I wonder if I'm showing what I'm feeling inside.

I can feel my heart sink a little, and I hear my breath catch. Kyle turns from me and walks back into his room. A little while later I hear his door open again and hear the sounds of him getting ready for the day in the bathroom. I gently drop my fork on my plate and sit back to stare. He sure didn't waste any time getting that ticket. He must really want to get away from me. But I can't blame him. I wish I could, but I really can't.

Once Kyle comes back out he has his jacket on and his car keys in his hand. "I gotta work, and give Chef my…one week notice."

I nod, he nods, and then he leaves. I stand back from my chair abruptly and sprint over to the door flinging it open and seeing his retreating back heading down the stairs. "Have a good day at work!" I call out to him, but Kyle doesn't stop. He merely pulls up a gloved hand in a simple wave and keeps walking. "Wait, Kyle!" I yell out stepping outside the apartment in my pajamas without any shoes or socks on.

I don't think he'll stop but he does, unfortunately he still doesn't face me.

"My uh," I rub the back of my hair subconsciously, even though he isn't look at me. "My mom wants us to come over tonight after I get off work. She…uh, needs our help with moving a few things into the attic. My dad tried and threw out his back," I give a forced chuckle. "Then she wants us to stay for dinner…you don't have to go," I add, deciding I can deal with my mom if Kyle doesn't want to go.

I watch his back, and I can see from behind as he takes in a deep breath. He's shaking for some reason, but he nods ahead.

"I'll meet you there," he states just loud enough for me to hear before he starts walking toward his car.

Heading back inside to get out of the cold I pick up my cell slowly and dial Bebe's number.

"Hey sweetie, I'm in a hurry can this wait?" She says immediately into the phone.

"…yes. No, Bebe, Kyle and I are dissolving the agreement."

She's silent on her line for a long time, but I know that whatever she was doing previously is forgotten.

"That so?"

"Yeah," I say and slink into the couch, wrapping a blanket around myself. "You're on friendly terms with him, maybe you can go by Cherry Kiss today and talk to him, try to help me out in getting him to stay?"

"…Stan," she starts. "I don't want to hurt you over this, but I'm going to be blunt about this. I don't _want_ Kyle to stay."

"What?" I say startled and I stiffen. "Bebe if we don't complete the agreement-"

"You don't get what Kenny left you in the will, I know. But Stan, you know I never liked this agreement in the first place. And as much as I like Kyle, the sooner he goes the sooner our lives can go back to normal." Her voice softens, "the sooner we can get married. You still want to marry me don't you?"

I hesitate. But Bebe doesn't notice.

"I do," I say quietly. "But I also want Kenny's belongings."

"I know…but I won't help you to make him stay. I'm sorry…I need to go now. I'll see you tonight."

I snarl into the phone, "I'm not coming by tonight," I say and snap the phone shut. In situations like this I really wish we had a land line, that way I could slam down the phone to emphasize how pissed off I am. Throwing my phone in aggravation I snuggle into the warm black throw Kyle bought. I smirk sadly into it. It was just another effort of Kyle's to incorporate black into the apartment, as dumb as it was since it picks up so much lint.

I know I should be going to class, especially with mid terms coming up, but I just don't feel like getting up. Instead my eyes land on the sunglasses resting on the coffee table Kyle got me for Christmas. I smile at the memory. How equally stupid. I never use them, but then again, he never uses the snow boots I got him either, and still they're arranged carefully with the rest of his shoes like he'll actually slip them on one day and go out in public in them. Which he won't ever, I snort. They're as unfashionable as they come. Definitely not something Kyle would bother with.

Standing I wrap the throw around me and walk slowly into Kyle's room, flicking the light on. Looking around at all his stuff I realize something I never noticed before. We're both impeccably neat. Kyle's clothes are color coded and arranged by length. His bed is always made, and aside from his personal belongings, like pictures and stuff, everything is neatly tucked away in its rightful place. Just like I have my stuff, just like Kenny had his. It's odd, that three guys who at one point used to be the best of friends who were slobs like the rest of the little boys in town ended up being the biggest neat freaks. I wonder what Kenny would say about that. He was more anal than me about organization, I've never really known why. But I guess now it probably had something to do with having to keep track of his financial records or something like that.

I've been this neat since developing an interest in food. I can't risk an unsanitary kitchen and that habit sort of spread to everything else in my space.

I've already walked over and opened his closet before I realize I have. I stare at the rainbow colored arrangement but my eyes fall on the gray snow boots. They're sitting awkwardly between two pairs of expensive sneakers, looking completely out of place, especially since they're scuffed and slightly dirty. I sigh and start to close the closet back before my hand freezes.

Scuffed and slightly dirty?

Confused I slowly reopen the door and stare back down at the snow boots. They've been worn. Kyle's worn them.

…but, but I've never seen him wear them. Ever. Then again, I'm not really around him much. When would I ever see him wear them?

He actually uses my Christmas present. The same present he frowned at in confusion in front of me. He wears them.

**Kyle**

"Hey Chef," I say as I step into Cherry Kiss, automatically pulling off my jacket and grinning slyly to a few of the regulars, girls and guys alike.

"Hey there Kyle, you came just in time, the usual crowd is starting to arrive. Why don't you clock in and head for table ten when you're done?"

"Yeah of course," I say and fall into the usual rhythm I've developed since I've worked here. I can't say I won't miss anything in South Park when I leave. I'll miss this place, I'll miss working with Chef, and I'll even miss the sexual harassment of the customers. This place was like my haven in the cold world I dealt with at home with Stan.

I shake my head. "You are being way overdramatic," I chide myself quietly and punch in my employee number in the clock before slipping on my apron, grabbing my notepad and heading for table ten.

"Hey Red," one of the girls purrs out as I stop at the table.

"Mercedes," I say smiling back. "Lexus, Porsche, what can I get you ladies?"

"The usual cutie," Lexus says to me winking and I jot down what they normally have. Caesar salads, no dressing and tall glasses of water. How these girls gain weight I'll never know, and I really never will, since I'm leaving soon. The thought saddens me, and even though I'm quick to force my easy smile back into place the girls notice.

"Hey what's wrong sweetie?" Porsche asks, even her playful smile dropping with the rest of the girls as they eye me.

"Uh, nothing," I tell them and grin.

"Don't give us that Red we can read you like a book, something going on with that adorable roommate of yours?" Mercedes asks.

Ugh. I don't want to talk, or think about Stan. Mercedes smirks and I blink, getting myself out of my slight daze. "Knew it," she says. "What's the problem, you guys fighting again?" I nod and sit down reluctantly as the girls pull me down beside them. I give Chef an apologetic expression but he only laughs and waves it off before turning to a customer.

"So what happened darling?" Lexus asks me scooting closer than I would like and resting one of her French manicured hands on my own.

"Just the," I pry my hand out of hers politely. "Usual arguments, but we decided…or I decided," I mutter. "That it'd be best if we stopped trying to act like we got along when we don't. Don't tell Chef or raise a fuss, but I'm giving him my one week notice…and then I'm going home."

"What?!" All three of them shriek appalled, and drawing in instant attention.

"Oh but cutie, you can't!" Lexus all but wails. "We'll miss you way too much!"

I shush them, "I said not to make a fuss!" I hiss and look around at the restaurant. A few of the customers have gone back to their meals but a good majority, including Chef, are still looking in our direction. "Look I want to talk to Chef about this first before it gets out okay? I'll still be working here for a week, and then I'm sure Chef will get someone else you girls will like."

"Like that'll ever happen. You're the only hot thing in this town!" Porsche tells me, "well except for Token, and that roomie of yours and he's off the market!" She adds as an afterthought.

"You know I still can't believe Bebe Stevens gets to marry Stan Marsh," Mercedes adds. "What's so great about her? Look at her figure, she must be at least a size 6 and an A cup at that."

"Nothing pretty to look at, at all," Lexus finishes and the girls shake their heads together in annoyance. "But anyway, cutie you can't let your fights take you away from us!"

I stand and adjust my apron, "sorry girls, but Stan and I are done trying to be something we're not. I'll go get your orders okay? I have a few more tables to wait," turning on my heel I head back to the kitchen to drop off the order and on my way I'm grabbed slightly and hauled to the side by Chef.

"Kyle did I hear those girls right? You're leaving?"

I sigh and nod reluctantly, "Stan and I can't work things out so we're calling it quits. I leave town in a week. Sorry for not getting you a two week notice."

He waves it off as if he doesn't care and looks at me closely, "but if you leave doesn't that mean you don't get what Kenny left you both in the will?"

I nod, "but I don't care enough anymore. You don't know what it's like Chef. Stan treats me like crap, when he's paying any attention to me. It's not like I'm trying to replace Kenny, but he doesn't want me in his life period. And frankly I'm tired of trying. I just want to go home."

He eyes me for a long time saying nothing, but finally he lets me out of his hold. "You ought to head for your other tables." Turning to leave his voice stops me, "I'll miss you Kyle, it was nice having you back here."

"Thanks Chef," I mutter quietly and head for table two.

The rest of the day goes on like the morning did. People hear of my leaving and surprisingly no one wants me too. I didn't think I really had much of a support system here, but all day all I've heard was that I shouldn't leave because of Stan. But what they don't know, and what I'm not telling them is I'm not just leaving because of Stan…or at least I'm not leaving solely because of our fighting. It's because I can't help him. It may not be in front of me, but Stan is still grieving heavily, and there's not a thing I was able to do about it. I've failed Kenny and I can't stay in his town being reminded of that. Once the day is over and I've said a goodbye to a customer I only see on Monday's Chef and I close up and I head back to the Marsh's.

Pulling to the side of the road I see Stan's car already parked. Taking a second to smooth my hair down and only frowning at it in annoyance I head to the front stoop and knock on the door. Its opened almost immediately by Mrs. Marsh.

She sighs at the sight of me and ushers me inside. "Good to see you again Kyle, you're here just in time. I tell you Stan is no better than his father, wanting to carry more than he can and be a "man" just like his father. Which really translates to him not admitting that he can't carry heavy objects on his own."

I laugh at this, not feeling the need to remind Mrs. Marsh that I too, am male. But she seems to realize her words and swats me slightly. "You know what I mean. Do you mind just heading up to the attic and helping Stan out? I need to watch the dinner and I'll be there in a minute to help you boys out."

"Is Mr. Marsh already up there?" I ask, heading for the stairs, as I try to remember exactly where the attic entrance was.

"Oh goodness no, he's still flat on his stomach like the idiot he is. Serves him right."

"My back is thrown out, but my ears work perfectly fine Sharon!" I hear Mr. Marsh yell from somewhere inside the house.

She smiles at me and shoos me upstairs. "I'll call when I'm done with dinner."

I nod and smile as she helps me take off my jacket before swatting me away.

Walking up the smile on my face falls. I didn't think I'd have to be alone with Stan. Not that I can't face him, I just…don't want to, at least not alone. Part of me, a huge part of me, feels incredibly bad at what I'm doing. It's for the best, for my sanity, but part of Stan's sanity rested in the idea of getting Kenny's stuff.

I shake my head. There's got to be a loop hole with that. Not being able to get Kenny's belongings? That doesn't sound right at all.

The door on the second floor leading up the attic is open and I walk up them slowly. Once I've reached a few of the top stairs I see Stan leaning over and heaving a box on top of another. He's muttering to himself too, something about boxes shouldn't reach the weight in which they can't be carried.

I clear my throat to announce my presence. He jumps and turns to face me sighing.

"Oh Kyle, fuck you startled me."

I say nothing to this.

"Right…thanks for coming."

"I said I would. I want to help out your mom."

"Right, my mom. Um," he looks around at the mess around him. "We're shifting all these boxes," he points to a few around him. "Somewhere over there so they don't block the thoroughfare like they are now."

I nod and head for a box. I lean over to pick it up and stop before it even reaches an inch off the ground. It's way the hell to heavy for me to lift by myself. I glance over at Stan and seeing the dilemma he walks over and helps pick up the slack.

We work silently like this for probably an hour before his mom calls us down to dinner. Walking down in front of him I can feel the way he's boring his eyes into my back, but I say nothing of it and sit myself at the dinner table where Mrs. Marsh has set out some food. I feel a little dirty eating right now, having been sweating and heaving moving boxes but neither Mrs. Marsh nor Stan seem to mind or care.

"What about Mr. Marsh?" I ask as Stan's mom starts to fill my plate generously. I wonder if I should let her know that I _have _been eating and there's no reason to stuff me.

"He has to eat where he is, he really can't move, so then, how is the moving coming along?" She asks cheerfully.

Stan grunts and I watch him look over accusingly at her. "You didn't come up to help at all!"

"Dear you didn't really think I was going to did you?" She asks her son smiling sweetly at him. "Get some more veggies sweetie," she adds.

Stan raises his eyes to the ceiling but does as his mother orders him. With the way Mrs. Marsh talks it leads me to believe that Stan hasn't told her I'm leaving. She's invited me back for dinner within the next two weeks and I don't have the guts to say anything otherwise to her. I'll let Stan deal with telling his family as I tell my own.

After dinner Stan and I, without Mrs. Marsh, head back up to the attic to finish moving the boxes. Once we're done she gives us each a hug, mine feels like she's hugging harder than necessary, and sends us on our way. Mr. Marsh yells a goodbye from wherever he is, I think the upstairs bedroom.

Once outside, walking toward our respective cars I stop as I open my hybrid when Stan speaks up.

"Thanks for helping out," he says.

"Yeah," I answer back, heading inside my car and starting it up, being the first one to leave his house.

What, so now he wants to be nice to me? Driving back to the apartment I clutch my wheel. Now that I've decided to fuck over his plans, I'm worth being kind too. Is that what he's doing, is that why breakfast was ridiculously incredible and worthy of six stars if there was such a thing? It makes me mad, it infuriates me to no end. Well, whatever, Stan can do what he wants. I'm not changing my mind.

Getting home before he does I quickly head up the apartment, change and head immediately to sleep so I don't risk having to look at him. I might punch him if I did out of frustrated anger.

The next morning is no different. He's pulling out all the stops. I don't know why. I already know he can cook. Maybe its to watch me to make sure I eat his food. If anything I don't throw away the lunch he makes me for work.

Dinner is the same. Once I get home from Cherry Kiss, I put on my pajamas and make myself comfortable at the table. He doesn't say anything to me as he drains one last dish before tossing it in serving bowl and handing it to me to put on the table. As I take a helping for myself I can feel him eye me.

"Don't you have dinner with Bebe?" I ask. It's a little weird, having him here for dinner. We haven't had a dinner together since the weeks we first moved in. Last night was one thing, we were helping out his mom, but I can't think of his reasons for staying tonight.

"Yeah," he responds simply.

"Is she coming over?" I ask looking around and not seeing a third set of dishes set out for her.

"No…I thought we could have dinner alone together. We haven't for a long time."

"That's because you always go to Bebe's," I coldly remind him.

"I know," he whispers. "Sorry about that."

I shrug indifferently, "she's your fiancée. You have to spend some time with her right?"

"Kyle I don't-" I cut him off be standing with my plate in one hand and my drink in another.

"It's weird eating with you at night. I think I'll eat in my room and then go to bed. Good night," I say and do just that. I eat sitting on my bed and looking out at my more mountains than trees view. I get what Stan's trying to do, but I'm not going to suffer in this apartment so he can get them.

He isn't doing this because he's changed for my sake; he's changing for his own sake so he can get what he wants. But I've already decided. One week, now six days, won't change my mind when he had two months.

**Stan**

It's already been _three_ days and there's no change. Kyle is still as civil as ever toward me, but it's like I'm a business associate he has to be friendly with. He isn't trying anymore. He doesn't help out more than he has to, he goes to work all day, he comes home, eats the dinners I make in his room and then goes to sleep.

It's wearing me thin.

When I finish the nights dinner, a simple pot roast, I cut Kyle's portion, pour him a drink and take the food to his room, leaving it on his bed. Since that's where he's been eating four nights in a row, even though I haven't left for Bebe's even though I'm eating at the table.

At the same time, he's being polite, but he's ignoring me.

I push around the carrots on my plate lethargically, "so this is what it feels like," I mutter to them.

When Kyle comes home he comes in with a stack of boxes and he looks completely out of breath. I stand quietly to help him pull in the boxes and set them to the side of the living room. "Are there any more?" I ask him and he nods tiredly.

I take his keys from his hands and head down the stairs to get the rest of them. He looks pretty worn, so it must have been a tiring day at work for him. He always looks that way when one of the male customers has been having a go at him, I remember him saying that to me once. And when that happens all he really wants to do is eat and sleep, those days he doesn't feel much like talking.

Retrieving the rest of the boxes I make sure Kyle's hybrid is locked tightly before heading back up. He probably won't tell me what the boxes are for, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. He's already going to start packing, which makes plenty of sense if he's leaving in three days. When I get in the living room I see that he's gone, meaning he must have already retreated into his bedroom. I set the boxes I have in my arms down with the others and settle in front of my own plate.

My cell rings and I glance over at it, seeing Bebe's number. I open the flip and close it back immediately before turning it off altogether. I'm still not talking to Bebe right now. Listlessly eating the food in front of me my head snaps up when I hear Kyle's chair being moved back. He looks at me in an expression I can't read. He's holding his plate and his drink and I watch as he sets them on the table.

"I hate mushrooms," he says to me and I look back at him confused.

"I know…that's why I didn't add any. Or, I _didn't _add any did I?" I ask looking at my own plate and not seeing the vegetable.

He sits down slowly at his usual chair. "You didn't. How you know I don't like mushrooms, I never told you."

"Kyle," I say snorting without being able to stop myself. "I notice when you pick apart my food, and I do notice which foods in particular you pick out."

I expect him to nod and leave, going back to his room. But he surprises me and settles himself at the table. I feel something inside me jolt when I watch him smile slightly at his plate and start to eat. We don't talk and as far as I know we don't really look at each other, but he doesn't leave, and when I ask if he wants peach cobbler he nods with a smile. This time it's directed at me.

**Kyle**

He knows I don't like mushrooms. He actually knows, he's been paying attention. I didn't even tell him I don't like them. It makes me wonder what else he knows about me that I don't realize that he knows.

"Can we have fish tonight?" I ask him suddenly before I leave for work. It's the morning after the mushroom night, and I'm curious to know something.

He looks surprised at me, probably because I haven't addressed him much over the last four days, but he nods slowly and I nod in thanks before I leave. I wonder if he'll know how I like my fish. We've it had it a few times, but not enough for him to really pick up on it…unless he was paying attention. And maybe it's a little cruel to test him, I don't know what I'll do if he fails. Nothing probably, it's just something I want to know.

I get off early today but I head home anyway. Walking into the apartment I'm not surprised to see Stan cooking in the kitchen. I pull my jacket off and toss it on the couch to watch him.

"Have you been going to work this week?" I suddenly ask, realizing that if he had he shouldn't be home this early. "Or school?" I add when I see he's still in his sleeping clothes. He looks like he showered but he doesn't look like he bothered to put on regular clothes.

He turns to glance at me before flicking some of his hair out of his face, "no." He replies before digging through a cupboard for something.

"No?" I repeat frowning and pulling off my gloves. "Why not?"

"Haven't felt like it I guess," he mutters into the cupboard.

"You haven't felt like it?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" I hear the annoyance in his voice and see it written on his face when he emerges from the cupboard with some sort of seasoning.

I frown back as I pull off my scarf. "You can't not go to school or work because you don't feel like it."

"What would be the point? I wouldn't be able to concentrate," he tells me and stands back to his full height to turn on a burner.

"But…don't you have mid terms next week?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Then you need to go to school!" I all but yell at him. "Does Zanadaci know you haven't been at work?"

"Which Zanadaci are you referring to?" He asks mildly.

"Your boss obviously," I say through clenched teeth.

"Oh, then yes. He knows. He doesn't want me there anyway. He says when I'm like this I'm completely useless to him and that he doesn't even want to bother with me." Stan shrugs to himself. "Can you hand me the fresh parsley?" He asks me when I've entered the small dining room.

I look at the set of seven different fresh herbs he's grown and stare. "Which one's the parsley?" I ask. They all look the same to me, small and green. It doesn't help that there are no labels.

Stan glances over before turning back to whatever he's doing. "The third plant on your right."

I grab the small little plant and set it near Stan who quickly picks off a few of the leaves and tosses them onto a plate that has a mixture of other green herbs. It's beside a wooden cutting board that has two whole fishes lying on it. "Thanks," he says after a moment. "Hey can you cut the fish up?"

What?

I stare at him for a second before turning to the fish. They still have scales, eyes, and fins.

"…um, how am I supposed to cut this up exactly?"

He wipes his hands on his pants as he looks at me. "First get the fish filet knife."

"…which is?" I ask looking at his knife set.

"The one that has the words 'fish filet' engraved on the handle," he says in slight amusement. I redden but say nothing and take the knife.

"Now what?" I ask as I set it down and roll up my sleeves.

"This is the annoying part, but its fun if you've never done it before. First cut around the eyes and just gauge it out."

"What?" I ask appalled.

He laughs, "I'm kidding of course, just cut off the entire head in one hard cut and toss it in the garbage. I don't use fish heads for anything. You can do the same for the fin."

I do so, but it takes me more than one cut to get the head and fin off. Raw fish is tougher than I thought.

"What kind of fish is this anyway?" I ask.

"Tilapia, not my favorite, it's pretty bland but that's the challenge in it. Making it a tasteful dish without completely covering the taste of it all together."

I nod and ask him what I do next. He tells me every step of the way on how to cut the fish as he pounds at something to the side with his hands. As I'm taking a side of scales off I glance over at him. He's putting a lot of effort into whatever he's making, so much that he's getting slightly red in the face. And every time he kneads into the dough I can see his muscles move under his thin white shirt. I never thought about it, but I guess it takes a bit of muscle to be a chef. With the way he sometimes pounds at food, and constantly cuts, or slices, it's more work than I imagined it to be.

I wonder if that's how Stan got his upper body muscle. "What?" He asks suddenly and I blink hard and blush before turning back to my fishes. I've been staring at Stan's back muscles for a little too long.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"Are you done?" He asks me.

"Just about," I say back as I cut off the last bit of scales. Setting down the knife I look at them proudly. It isn't remotely straight clean cuts like Stan can do, and I have to pick off a few of the scales with my hand but it's not bad. When I hear him smirk I turn, a scowl already on my face to defend my raw fish.

But his smirk came from a smile, and he's shaking his head. "Is this your first time cutting up a fish?"

"Yeah…why? Is it that bad?" I ask defensively.

He snorts, "I didn't even do this good a job my first time. You should have seen it. I couldn't for the life of me get off all the damn scales. The stupid fucking little things wouldn't come off, and then when I finally did get them off, the fish looked mutilated and no one wanted to eat it."

"Oh," I laugh lightly as I look back at my fishes. "Hey Stan?"

"Hm?" He asks as he slices the fishes in half and begins to de-bone them.

"How did you know you wanted to become a chef?"

He looks over at me, stopping his process before going back to it after a moment passes. "Well…" He looks back over at me weirdly before continuing, "when I was eleven…my dad forgot to order my moms birthday cake and Shelly was out shopping with my mom distracting her from her surprise birthday party." He suddenly smiles, "my dad was freaking out…you remember how he can be…right?"

Kyle snorted amused, "Yeah, I wouldn't forget your dad's antics."

"Yeah…anyway while he was running around moaning about what an idiot he was I took my grandmothers old cookbook down and just…followed the directions to make a cake."

"And it turned out amazing?" I ask with a smile.

"Actually it was pretty damn horrible. It tasted like flower and baking soda, we threw it out. But it was the process of actually baking that interested me. Even though the end result was absolute shit, I had a lot of fun doing it…and after that Kenny was always willing to be my taste tester…he died a lot during those years," Stan muses to himself laughing. "But at the same time he was the first person to taste how good my food could be, and I guess that's when I knew I wanted to cook for a living if I could."

I watch silently as Stan takes the filets after covering them with the seasonings and places them in the oven.

"What're you doing?" I ask him quietly.

He gives me an odd look as he closes the oven, "baking the fish."

I step out of the kitchen and sit at the dining table, after I've washed my hands. "We're not going to grill it or broil it?"

"Kyle, you don't even like grilled or broiled fish," Stan says washing his hands.

"How do you know that?"

Stan turns to look at me. "Why are you asking me? You didn't like the grilled fish I had made you once, and you didn't like the broiled fish I made before, and I can't even begin to bother with the process of smoking it, besides you loved the baked trout I made."

"But you remember."

"I don't think I'm following your point in this."

"It's the same thing with the mushrooms from last night."

"The mushrooms?"

I nod firmly, "you knew I didn't like them but I've never told you I haven't liked them. You know how I like my fish, but…I haven't ever told you how I like my fish."

For some reason Stan looks a little worried and he joins me at the dining table, sitting slowly as he keeps eye contact.

"There isn't any reason to look so worried Stan, I'm not mad…if anything…I'm surprised. We've spent two months living together and really, up until tonight we haven't had a normal evening. We're either not talking, fighting, you're at Bebe's or the atmosphere is tense and awkward. This is the first time I've felt remotely relaxed. I'm just now realizing that even when we weren't talking you were still learning things about me, and honestly…I'm happy to see that…and because of that…" I look down at my hands.

Because of that I feel for the first time that I ought to say something about what I did in the past. What I have to say is next is very overdue, eleven years overdue. Our situation isn't just Stan's fault. I had a part in this too.

"Maybe it's eleven years too late, but…I'm sorry Stan. I really, _really_ am sorry. I didn't mean…" I pause. I hadn't meant to hurt him when I left, even if I knew I did. "I'm sorry," I say again and raise my head slowly to look back at him. He looks a little stunned and I watch as his face wrinkles as if he's trying to digest what I just said.

"Sorry?"

"…for what I did, when I was younger. It's probably too late, but…I need to apologize. I didn't want to stop being your friend, and I've always felt bad for what I did and I always wanted to call you and apologize…but I was…too embarrassed."

He's silent watching nothing in particular out our living room window. "I gotta know something Kyle, it's been eating at me since then."

"Yeah?"

"Why?" He asks simply turning to face me. "Why'd you do that to me? Why'd you let us loose contact?"

Could he have asked something harder for me to answer? I hang my head. I've already resolved to tell him anything he wants to know, that involves the dirty truth. "I…before you came to California," I start quietly. "I had told all my new friends everything there was to tell about you and Kenny, even Cartman on occasion, and I put you on such a high pedestal that even they were ecstatic to meet you. But then you came and I…you didn't seem like…they didn't," I sigh in frustration.

"You were embarrassed by me." It's a statement, not a question, but I nod nevertheless. Stan scoffs, "you were embarrassed by me," he repeats in a confirmative tone.

"I came to that new state not knowing anyone, and I was this kid from some mountain town in god knows where Colorado. I couldn't relate to half the things the kids in California knew and talked about…I had to conform, I had to learn to enjoy what they did, and I do now, I just…I never really wanted to leave you behind. I even still have your last letter."

I'm surprised when Stan starts to laugh, "the one I wrote in big black letters that said 'YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!?' You kept that?"

I nod meekly.

"Dude, why?" He asks still laughing.

I give Stan a tiny smile, "I don't know, partly to punish myself I guess."

Stan looks off for a moment, his laughter dying and a knot starts to twist in my stomach as I wait for him to say something.

"I can't say I forgive you," he finally says simply. "Because I don't, that was a pretty bastard move of yours, ditching me like some ex-girlfriend…but…thanks…for the apology. I had been waiting for one," he adds softly. "I almost figured you forgot what you had even done, that's part of the reason I've been such an ass to you." Stan releases a sigh and rubs his face with his hands before placing them back on the table to look at me. "What happened still hurt me, the first few years after you left you were the only thing I talked about. I was mostly cursing you to hell, that's all I did for a really long time. But then, it was Kenny who told me it was okay to feel sad and that it was okay if I didn't mask my sadness with anger around him. It's about the time we got close."

I nod silently, swallowing a lump in my throat. "Maybe these last three days we can try to be…friends again, if only casual?"

"…These last few days," Stan mutters, but he nods reluctantly before standing to head back into the kitchen.

I still hope that even after I leave we do keep in contact. No, I know we can keep in contact. We're nineteen and there's no longer anyone to impress, and even if there was, we're old enough not to give into peer pressure. I'm glad to know that our last three days together will be in friendship, I only wished we had settled all this earlier. I still think it's best for me to leave, the tension is still there, and it will probably only leave if I leave. At least now I won't feel awkward talking with Stan. I'll make the most of the time we have left together and get to know the friend I missed out in for eleven years.

**-FG**

**AN: **No comments on the actual chapter. But I know you're all turning heads and looking at the calendar wondering if a few days have gone by without you knowing it. No they have not. I am in fact updating the day after I just updated 22. Why? Well…this chapter is pretty nice isn't it? But it's REALLY entirely because of the news I wanted to share with everyone. I couldn't keep it in, especially since it's ready to be viewed. Ready? Okay.

A reviewer Syntic, had asked if she could make a fanart story of this, manga style, so if you're familiar with the terms she asked to make a doujinshi. After a few terms were set I agreed! She plans to take a scene from every chapter and do a manga page on it on her dA account! The first three pages (first three chapters) are posted! And that's why I couldn't possibly keep that from you all. Maybe it doesn't excite any of you (though it should), but I'm ecstatic. And after I saw them…well, you guys just have to go check it out. I'll post the link to view the pages on my bio. GO FORWARD AND LOOK! Leave her a comment too if you have a dA account! They're so pretty…;;

Anyway, that's the news and I hope it was worth the teasing I put you all through last chapter. You didn't have to wait very long for this chapter because of it now did you? See you all in 24!


	24. Bebe

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Bebe**

"Are you happy?" I ask, looking down at Kenny's headstone.

I clutch my jacket closer to myself trying to keep the cold out. I have no idea what possessed me to come here, there's no reason too. Talking to a headstone won't make me feel better but as of yet neither has talking to my friends nor my family.

I look down at my cell phone which I'm holding tightly too. "He hung up on me, again," I add. "God you know its not even that I don't like Kyle, I love Kyle, I love who he's become and he's so kind but…you know I don't like _why_ he's here. You're probably laughing at me right now…I'm sure this is exactly what you wanted."

Stan hasn't spoken to me in five days. I've been calling him day and night and when I don't get transferred directly to his voice mail, he just answers and then disconnects our connection. He hasn't even said anything to me. I didn't mean to sound so harsh but…

I shove my phone back into my pocket. How patient am I expected to be? Of course I would wait on the ends of the earth for Stan, but I can't help but wonder…would he do the same for me? Prior to this we had been having dinner every night and things between us have seemed perfectly fine, but I know they're not. He's been having his mind around Kyle so much and this whole stupid agreement that he hasn't had time to focus on us, not even a little bit…because if he did I think he'd see what I'm seeing…that our relationship is starting to chip away.

Really, it's so small now that I'm not entirely surprised that he hasn't noticed, but as my mind has been on nothing but him, I see it clearly.

Kyle is ripping at us.

I don't want to say that, I hate thinking it, but I have never seen Stan put so much energy into anyone else besides Kenny. Even if it's negative energy, I know that for him to even care this much means he cares a lot about him, and that's fine. I do want them to get along again. And the only reason I even know that they're not getting along is because Stan's mother mentioned it to me.

That in itself hurts me. I didn't hear about his problems with Kyle from Stan, my Stan, my fiancée. I heard it from his mother.

Stan's always been a little closed off, I've come to accept that as part of his personality. Whatever he couldn't tell me I'm sure he told Kenny, but now that Kenny's not here, I don't know what he's doing with all this internal pain. I just wish he could see that I'm here for him. I'm the girl who is going to spend the rest of her life with him, and yet why do I always feel like he's forgotten that?

I sigh and crouch down in front of the grave. "It was almost better having you around," I mutter. I lean my head against the stone, trying to ignore the thought of how many bugs must have crawled over it by now. "I hate you Kenny," I whisper. "I do. I know that you came with Stan, I came to accept that as well. I knew that if I wanted him I'd have to take you too. I knew that, everyone knew that, but it doesn't mean I had to like it. And I just thought…" I hesitate. "I thought with you gone I could finally have the part of love Stan only had for you….did you know that sometimes I thought you two had something going on? Besides friendship? How could I not?" I back away and brush over the words on his headstone lightly. "You're the only guys I knew who spent so much time together, devoted so much energy on one another, and I wasn't the only one who thought that. A lot of our friends thought maybe you and Stan had something, but I trust Stan. I know he wouldn't do that to me, I figured he'd just break it off altogether without even batting an eye. I know now that Stan loved you only in a platonic way…but you, what about you? You never had a girlfriend, a boyfriend nothing. Why not? Were you pining after my fiancée?" I almost start to raise my voice but I stop and stand up.

Resting a few fingers against my forehead I take a deep breath. Now I'm just making wild assumptions. Those two never did anything together. Stan isn't the best of liars, I would have known if he was cheating.

The sound of my phone goes off and I quickly pull it out of my pocket, "Stan?" I say into it immediately. The other end is quiet for a moment before the person on the other end speaks up.

"No, Bebe? It's Wendy."

"Wendy," I breathe out, trying to hold in the disappointed sigh.

"…did I call at a bad time?" She asks, I can hear the concern starting to filter into her voice and I force myself to be the chipper Bebe Stevens everyone knows.

"No, no of course not, how are you? I haven't talked to you in awhile."

"I'm good. I know it's a little late but I was calling to ask how your holiday season was?"

I give Kenny's grave one last glance before walking off through the cemetery. "It was good! Stan made an excellent dinner and breakfast and it was wonderful to have all my family and future family around!"

"Mh hm…"she says softly. "Bebe, I've been talking with Heidi lately."

I swallow the lump in my throat. What has that friend of mine been telling Wendy?

"Oh, what are you girls talking about?"

"Well…it was mostly just catching up you know? But…she's mentioned something to me, and she even asked if I would talk to you."

"What?" I ask appalled. Heidi is one of my closest friends. I can't imagine what she couldn't tell me that she feels Wendy can. Wendy and I are still friends, but we haven't been as close since she moved to New York. Distance has a tendency to ruin childhood friendships…some more than others I suppose.

"Yeah, she said that you weren't acting like yourself and that it may have something to do with Stan and Kyle, and some sort of agreement they're fulfilling for…Kenny? Sorry, I only got the raw edited version."

I pause in front of a random grave. "Oh, I guess you don't know," I sigh and brief her on Kenny's little contract.

Wendy goes silent before I finally hear her release a low exhale, "it's like Kyle all over again," she mutters and I blink in confusion.

"What do you mean?" I ask deciding to sit on a bench that's near the edge of the cemetery. From here I can see the exit and I can also so the tree that's hovering over Kenny's spot.

"I can't remember if I ever mentioned it to you….and of course things are very different since we were only little kids at the time, but Bebe…you remember how close Stan and Kyle were don't you?"

"Yeah," I say brushing a few strands of my curly blonde hair back behind my ear. "Of course, they did everything together."

"Yes, _everything,_" she stresses, "it was a given, and I realized even then that it was going to be a permanent fact, Stan and Kyle."

She doesn't say anything more and I'm still confused, "Stan and Kyle what?"

"You didn't say one name without the other, remember? If there was Stan there was Kyle, if there was Kyle there was Stan."

"So?"

"So?" She sounds a little annoyed. "Bebe it became the same thing with Kenny. Stan and Kenny, Kenny and Stan. I hope you understand that Stan doesn't come alone, he comes with whoever his best friend is."

"I know that," I scowl. "I'm just failing to see your point about it.

"The point _is _that if you don't like it, if you don't think you can get over it…then it'll be better for you to…" Wendy sighs before she continues, "find someone else. If you love Stan and if you really want to spend the rest of your life with him, you'd better be prepared for a life with a third person…"

"…why are you saying something like that?" I whisper into the phone raising my other hand to cradle it. "Are you saying that because I stole Stan from you?"

Wendy lets out an exasperated impatient sigh, "it's been ten years Bebe, I don't care, and you didn't steal him from me. He was never mine, not completely, I only had half his adoration and puppy love at the time."

"…half?" I question, asking her another in silence.

"Kyle had the other half," she confirms. "But what Kyle had is nothing, _nothing _Bebe, in comparison to what Kenny has."

"Had."

"No, has."

"You've called to advise me to break up with Stan, is that what this is?"

"No. I called to give you a little bit of a heads up, but knowing Stan you probably don't need one. You probably already see it, after all Kenny's gone and Kyle's back in town."

"Nhn," I lean over and rest my head into my knees and hands. "What do I do then, I love him Wendy. I really do."

"…" I can hear Wendy sigh gently on her end of the phone, but she doesn't answer right away, so I stay where I am listening to a silent phone, waiting for her to say something. "Why do you think Stan relies so heavily on his friends Bebe?" She finally speaks up, asking me a question rather than giving me a statement on what I should do.

I pause for a moment before answering, "for the same reason we all do. Our parents have always been incompetent and irrational. They weren't the most reliable people when we were kids so we turned to each other."

It's a known fact that we kids in South Park had to depend on one another with the way our parents acted. They're a lot better now for reasons I can't explain, but on occasion wonder about.

"Oh Bebe no," Wendy says apologetically, as if I've lost a game. "It's because he's Stan, simple as that. It's just who he is, it's in his personality. He was never meant to be a loner he was meant to be surrounded by people."

"Then what do I do?"

"…fight, and hope you didn't enter the battle too late."

"How do you know this?"

Wendy laughs lightly into the phone, "it isn't something I realized until long after Stan and I drifted. I guess the distance gave me time to look at our relationship from afar and really sit back and examine why things ended up the way they did."

"Do you think Stan and I are good together?" It's not a question I meant to ask, it just sort of popped out and I can tell she didn't expect to hear it either. "It's…it's always something I wanted to ask you especially, since before you left…it didn't seem like I really glanced at Stan, I always wondered what you thought of us being together."

"It's odd…I admit I was thrown when I first heard it…and then I was dazed when I heard you two were engaged, because Bebe…"

"Yes?" I prod her wanting her to continue from where she trailed off.

"Because you don't…get Stan."

"I don't get him?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"You don't get him," she confirms a little sadly.

"And you do?"

"I do now."

"And now that you get him?"

"I understand him, and I…know my place, so to speak. We get along a lot better now."

I have noticed that – that they get along very well.

"And I don't?"

"_You're_ the one asking _me _questions about _your _fiancée. It wouldn't hurt to look back on your relationship…and it wouldn't be the end of the world if you found out that things haven't always been the way you set them up to be…I should probably go…I'll call you later Bebe."

I slowly close my cell phone, staring at it.

The way _I _set them up to be?

I shake my head and am about to turn to head for the exit when I see a figure in the distance standing in front of Kenny's grave. I watch as the person gives the dirt a listless kick.

Curious I walk cautiously toward them and stop when I get a full view of the person.

"Oh, it's you," I say deadpanned and Cartman looks up to glance at me before looking back down at Kenny's headstone. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I come by and say a few words to my old friend?" Cartman asks.

"I saw you kick the dirt, that doesn't seem like you're saying a few kind words."

"Who said my words were kind you curly bimbo?"

I raise my lip in disgust, "don't you even have respect for the dead?"

Cartman snorts, "because I'm sure you do. Please Bebe, don't act like the saint here. You hated the stupid bastard as much as I did, for different reasons but it's hate all the same. You couldn't stand the gay way he was with Stan and I couldn't stand the fact that he existed, spreading his poor seed around."

"Do you want to get your fat face shoved in?" I snarl at him, tightening my fists into balls. I may be shorter than Cartman by almost a good foot but I'm definitely faster. My anger fades as I watch Cartman break out in laughter.

I huff and look at Kenny's grave. "Kyle's in town you know."

"You think I'm blind or deaf?"

"Can't anything out of your mouth be civil?"

Cartman eyes me but doesn't say anything for a moment, "so what if the old Jew is back in town. What difference is that supposed to make to me?"

"Aren't you going to go hark on him or something?"

Cartman scoffs at me, "you're a fucking idiot as usual."

"Excuse me?!"

"You and Stan deserve each other, neither of you can let the past shit go. You think I'm going to waste my time by even approaching Kyle?" Cartman snorts. "What for, I don't give a rats ass about him."

This time I snort in disbelief and he turns to glare at me.

"What, you don't believe me? This coming from the bitch waiting in the sidelines for someone who isn't going to come around. Take a good hard look at your fucking cookie cutter life Bebe, it's fucked up and it's crooked. I wish I could be around when you finally realize that the only thing you'll ever be doing is standing around and waiting for nothing to come."

My jaw hardens as I look at him. It's weird because he isn't saying it maliciously, it's in a matter of fact tone, and he looks almost bored at having to have said it, "…do you want to go grab something to eat?" I ask suddenly.

Cartman looks taken aback but only for a second or two, "you buying?"

"Sure."

"I'm in, let's go. I'm tired of looking at dirt."

Cartman and I leave the cemetery together and decide to go somewhere outside of South Park. Neither of us wants to be seen with the other, and we both know it. Deciding on a little Mexican joint I order something small, I want to be able to fit into my wedding dress, which is currently two sizes smaller than I am. I watch in disgust as Cartman orders half the menu. After we hand over the menu's to the waiter I curl my lip at him.

"You're such a fucking pig Cartman."

"And you're fulfilling the anorexic blonde bitch pretty well Bebe, so shut your holes."

"I'm the one who invited you here!" I snarl at him.

He leans back in his chair and sips his pop, "yeah I know, why, what do you want?"

Am I really about to have a conversation with Eric Cartman? I can't even properly think of a single moment in my life where I left myself alone with him, and here we are, in the middle of nowhere, past South Park in some dumpy Mexican restaurant, and I'm about to ask him about my relationship with Stan.

"About what you said earlier…" I pause.

"Which part?"

"…the…me waiting on the sidelines forever for something that isn't coming."

He snorts, "and?"

"And what did you mean by that?"

Creasing his eyebrows together he lowers his chair to lean in closer toward me, causing me to back away from him. "You know exactly what I meant by that, you and Stan are going to get married when I marry a hippie. Aint happening."

I frown, "Wendy says all I have to do is fight for Stan."

"Did you seriously drag me here to talk about your sob story with Stan? Let me lay it out for you Bebe since you're as slow as ever." He pauses as if gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've know Stan my entire life. He's always been a whiny needy little jock. Like you he's had this vision of what a perfect life is supposed to look like. You can't blame the poor sap, besides his alkie dad he grew up pretty normal. And normal to him is married, job, kids, the end, you die. He's a bit thick so he hasn't even realized how off centered he's actually doing things. He's going to marry you, because you've been with him so long. There's no other logical move for him to have made. But, Stan has this unhealthy thing with having really close friends, which _always _come before anything else. You included…you've noticed that right?"

"…you're wrong. Stan is marrying me because he loves me."

Cartman stares at me with a look of disbelief on his face before he rolls his eyes. "Denial doesn't suit anyone Bebe."

"Well what about you!" I sneer out.

"What _about _me?"

"You've been acting off since Kenny died, admit it, you miss him. You miss him so much it tears at you."

"I don't. I hate him."

"That's bullshit denial if I heard anything. Kenny was your _only _friend. No one else could stand you."

After a long tense moment of staring each other down Cartman finally smirks and shakes his head.

"What's so funny?" I ask annoyed.

"You. You're a piece of work Bebe, the finest I've seen in a long time…I'm gonna give you some advice, so listen up because I don't normally give free advice. Drop Stan before he drops you, you might spare yourself some pain."

"Fuck off Cartman."

"Like I haven't heard that one before."

"It's just, Kenny-," I start and am immediately cut off by Cartman.

"Fuck Kenny."

I watch as our waiter comes back with our food. Picking up a fork I start to cut the small little enchilada. "Yeah," I mutter softly. "Fuck Kenny."

I see Cartman glance up at me from his food, but he doesn't say anything and we spend the rest of our time eating in silence.

**-FG**

**AN: **I'm not delaying THE CHAPTER ABOVE CHAPTERS (my ego is through the roof because of all of you) to torture you all (though the idea is funny) Bebe was overdue for a chapter of her own. And a few of you have been asking about Cartman. I did not forget about him. And fucking hell you people are the best reviewers I have ever had. Yes, that's right, THE BEST. So encouraging and funny, really makes me want to be less of a tease. Anyway, guys midterms are kicking my ass right now so that is where focus has been. Chapter 25, which I _promise_ will go back to Stan and Kyle is also kicking my ass, for I think obvious reasons.

Oh and is anyone else PISSED AS HELL that fanfiction is using our bio's as a place for advertisements!? What crap is that?! Grr….


	25. Stan and Kyle VII

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

I'm having trouble believing it. Kyle apologized. Yet, he's still leaving. I couldn't accept his apology because wouldn't that be saying I forgive him? I don't, I want to, but I can't. Eventually I know I'll be able too, just not now.

And to think that yesterday things were so tense, but then I asked him to help me cook and before I know it we're talking like…friends. And he's asking me questions and apologizing and…fuck was this really only yesterday?

"Get up dude," I say entering Kyle's room and flicking on his lights. I watch irritated as he digs himself further under his covers. "Come on," I add impatiently as I walk into his room and nudge him slightly. Kyle groans softly but doesn't emerge from his cave. "Would you stop being a kid about this Kyle?" I snap yanking off his covers and tossing them at the foot of his bed.

"What?" He finally says back crankily, but he still hasn't moved. All he's done is tighten his body in a little ball while he refuses to open his eyes. "I don't work today," he adds.

"We have to get to Zanadaci's, he called. Something about us signing off on the credit cards – get the fuck _up_ Kyle!" I bark when I see him bleary eyed start to reach for his covers. "God, are you always this bad of a morning person?"

"Only when I don wanna get up," he murmurs.

"Dude if you don't get up in one minute I'm tossing your Versace sunglasses out the window."

"Don't you fucking dare you asshole!" He jolts up alarmed, looking ready to attack me.

I hold out his sunglasses to him and he yanks them from me with a frown, plopping them on his disheveled hair. "That was a dirty trick," he growls out to me standing and stretching his body beside me. "What did Zanadaci need to see us about? …hello? Stan? Stan!"

"What?" I jump in surprise to meet his face.

"I _said _whatdid Zanadaci want to see us about?"

"Hm?" I mutter distractedly, something about Kyle's distracting me but I can't place what…

"Dude what's your deal?" He says getting up and tossing a shirt over his head as he reluctantly gets out of bed. "And stop staring at me like that, you're giving me the fucking creeps," he mutters and it's what shakes me out of my daze.

I turn around, feeling the heat rush to my face. I clear my throat, "hurry up, I want to leave in fifteen minutes," I say before walking out, hearing Kyle complain that he needs at least twenty to fully wake himself up.

Having gone out to get a cup of coffee before I woke Kyle up I sit at the dining table and nurse the venti sized drink. Zanadaci is who woke me.

He had been hesitant on the phone, almost as if he'd be weary that I'd start complaining about Kyle again. Almost funny. Because a few days ago I'd be doing just that, but now…Zanadaci said we had to come in person to his office to sign off on the credit card bills to be sure that everything the bill stated was something we actually bought.

I don't want to go. I'm not looking forward to it at all. It's only a reminder of the seemingly evitable. That Kyle's leaving…in two days.

I didn't sleep a wink last night. I've been trying to think of something, anything I could say or do that would make him change his mind in 48 hours. Instead all I did was get no sleep and a raging headache. Coffee probably isn't helping but I want the bags under my eyes to go away.

When I had to go into Kyle's room this morning to wake him up I stood outside of his door for ten minutes. It's the first time I've had to wake him up for something and I wasn't sure how to go about it given last night, given the past two months…finally after deciding the best thing to prove that I was, at the very least, accepting of his apology I walked in and tried to make it seem like I've always woken him up and he played his part well. Acting like he's always had to resist me.

I rest my forehead against the table.

What am I going to do? Two days? Gimme a fucking break…

"Did you get me one?" Comes Kyle's voice and I snap my head to look at him. He's slipping on his jacket and plopping his sunglasses over his hair absentmindedly.

"One what?"

"Coffee."

I look at my drink, cursing inwardly. That would have been the obvious move to make.

He snorts, "not surprised there," he mutters. "Never mind, let's get something for me on the way."

I nod and stand, "you want to drive or shou-"

"You drive," he cut me off. "I still haven't called my parents about coming home and I need someone to pick me up from the airport, I'm sure my mom will insist on shipping my car again…damn I wish Ike was 16," he says more to himself as we leave, locking up behind us and heading for my car.

"Hm, actually maybe I'll call Frey," Kyle mutters to himself and he holds down a number in cell and it automatically starts dialing a number.

Heading for Mr. Zanadaci's office, I listen to his side of the conversation. I can't help it after all. I'm less than a foot away from him.

"Z!" He says cheerfully before starting to laugh. "Yeah, I need something. But don't worry it wont cost money, unless you count gas…" there's a pause from him. "I'm coming home in two days and I was wondering if you could pick me up? I don't want to have to deal with my mom quite yet." Another long pause. "Yeah I know I wasn't originally going to be back for another two and a half months, but…" Kyle glances over at me. "I'll explain later, but can you pick me up?"

He pauses, "thanks! I'll be coming from gate L4 and my plane should get there at about noon."

There's a long stretch and I see Kyle nodding, "yeah, and dude really thanks. I'll see you in two days then…okay, bye Frey."

"So…your friend can pick you up alright?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah, Frey's great…" Kyle chuckles slightly, but it sounds a little on the overwhelmed side. "I still have to pack everything…and ship everything…ugh, what the hell was I thinking only giving myself a week to leave?"

"I think…you were getting back at me as fast as you could."

Kyle laughs, "yeah, but now I've inconvenienced you. You'll have to take care of returning all the rental furniture yourself, and you'll have to deal with the cleaning of the apartment and, fuck I'm leaving you to do everything!"

I stay silent to this. Of course I know this, but the way he's talking about it…you'd think he was leaving in a few hours.

When we reach Zanadaci's office we're immediately allowed to see him. When we enter he's on the phone with someone but he gestures to the two seats in front of his desk. Kyle takes the left one and I take the right. A few minutes later Zanadaci has ended his phone call and pulls out a file that's marked with our names. He looks through them for a silent moment before sliding over a few statements.

"Is everything marked correctly on the credit bills?" He asks.

Kyle and I lean toward the paper together, and almost automatically flinch away from each other. I sigh and nod for him to look over things first. He does so before letting me have a look.

"Everything looks fine to me," Kyle says and I nod in agreement.

"Good, then if you would both sign the bottom of the paper, here and here," Zanadaci says as he points to the spots. After quickly scanning the contents of the paper Kyle signs, and I glance at him warily before signing afterward.

"Anything else?" Kyle asks.

"Not for two more days, thank you boys for coming in early this morning," the lawyer says nodding to us.

"Sure," I say and stand, watching as Kyle follows suit. Mr. Zanadaci's phone rings and he smiles at us before taking the call and waving at us slightly as we leave his office.

"That didn't take very long," Kyle says as we step back into my car. When I don't turn on the engine he peers over at me. "Should we…get going then?" He asks slowly.

Something to make him stay…I need to think of something.

"Did you…want to go say goodbye to anyone? You're only here for two more days and you should spend tomorrow packing don't you think?" I ask suddenly. Prodding him along to say his goodbye's doesn't seem like the best move to make him stay here in South Park, but it escaped me before I could stop it.

"Oh," Kyle leans into the seat looking out the front window. "I guess you're right." He turns back to me and gives me a small smile. "The girls should be at Cherry Kiss as usual, do you want to head there, and we can have lunch while we're there?"

Starting the engine and heading for the restaurant provides him my answer and the minute we arrive and step inside I realize maybe Kyle had made friends while he was here. He's instantly greeted by a number of customers, all giving me hard looks. He stops by each one to give them a smile and a bit of small talk, but it's the former Raisin Girls that grab a hold of most of his attention.

I've seen the girls around town of course, but I never really got to know them, even after all these years. Bebe has never been fond of them for some reason so I never saw a purpose for getting to know them either.

Kyle is standing beside a blonde and redhead, but he's practically yanked down to join them. He says something I don't hear but he looks over at me and all the girls turn to look at me as well, the disapproval in their eyes is apparent and I'm starting to wonder what Kyle has said about me to them, to everyone, in this restaurant.

The redhead, who had been the one to grab a hold of him, releases Kyle with a small frown and as she says something she looks pointedly back at me. The last of the girls, a black haired one, suddenly bursts out crying and Kyle looks a little panicked, and a little exasperated as he comforts her.

Eventually, each girl gets a tight hug, and a kiss…

Kyle stands and waves to them before heading toward the back. "I'm going to say goodbye to Chef real quick!" He calls out to me and I nod, letting him know I heard him. The moment he disappears into the back, all eyes turn to me and I back away closer toward the door.

There is no way Kyle and I are going to eat here. No way.

The crowd is silent as they eye me up and down, making me feel pretty damn uncomfortable but no one says anything and they immediately go back to talking and chattering amongst themselves when Kyle returns.

"Ready to go?" I ask the second he's close enough to hear me.

"I thought we were going to eat here?"

I peer behind him at all the people who are sneaking looks at us and probably eavesdropping on our conversation, the girls in particular.

"I'd rather not," I mutter and at this Kyle furrows his eyebrows together in confusion before whipping his head around. By the time he has the groups of people have already gone back to acting normal.

"Hm," he mutters. "Maybe you're right. Let's go…" He pauses as I open the door, turning back to everyone in the restaurant, Chef and another guy who emerged from the rear, included.

"I loved working here, thanks everyone…" he says smiling before he walks out of the restaurant ahead of me, leaving me alone inside.

All eyes turn to me and I meet each one, "I don't know how…" I start hesitantly. "But I'm going to get Kyle to stay."

No one looks like they believe me, in fact they all still look like they don't care for me, even if I have known a large portion of them my entire life.

"Good luck Stan," says a low voice and I nod my appreciation at Chef just as I exit the building.

"Where to now?" I ask. "Want to find some place to eat?"

"Nah," he says resolutely. "Now I'm in the mood for goodbye's…can we head to your parents house? I never really thanked them for letting me stay over for Christmas."

"Sure."

**Kyle**

"You're leaving?" Mrs. Marsh asks me surprised.

I nod.

"I'm not sure if I understand why."

I glance over at Stan for help. I don't want to be the one to tell his mother why I'm leaving and why I believe it's best for Stan and me to cut our losses and for me to return home.

"I'll explain later mom," Stan answers.

"I had wanted to say goodbye and to thank you and Mr. Marsh for letting me stay over for the Christmas holiday," I tell her and Mr. Marsh as I look at them from across the table.

Once we had gotten to Stan's house his mom had pulled us both in before we had said anything and got to fixing a few drinks and sandwiches for us to consume while we sat at their dining table and talked.

"It's not a problem at all Kyle, but I thought if you two wanted Kenny's belongings you had to fulfill this whole living arrangement thing?" Mr. Marsh questions, looking back and forth at me and Stan.

"We do," Stan says harshly and with a hint of finality. Neither of his parents asks anymore questions about my upcoming departure. Instead the conversation shifts to safe territory.

"The Nuggets are doing really well this year Stan," Mr. Marsh pipes up as he takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing loudly.

"Yeah, I've been following," he replies.

"Didn't you used to want to play for the Nuggets Kyle?" Mrs. Marsh asks me and I turn my attention to her, laughing slightly.

"Yeah, back when I was nine."

"Do you still play basketball, maybe at Stanford?"

"Not for the actual team, but I play in intramurals as point guard," I say not completely able to keep the pride out of my voice. I may not play for the team and I may have no hopes at going pro, but it's always nice to know that I've sorta completed an old goal. I'm not short but I'm not basketball tall either and I'm still not black, but I've made up for it by honing what I could do. And what I lack in height I make up for in stealth. It's gotten easy to duck and dodge around the taller players.

"Oh really," she says interested.

"You still play," Stan says as a statement and I nod.

"Do you still like the Nuggets?" Mr. Marsh wonders.

I grin, "Yeah, still my favorite team, I just don't go around saying that to my friends who are fan's of the Lakers."

"Probably a good safety move," he nods approvingly. "Glad to know you're still a Denver fan through and through Kyle."

"Thanks," I beam at him.

"I'll take you to a game sometime," Stan suddenly says. "When you come back and visit." He adds.

I study him closely, "really?" I almost don't believe him. That seems too much like what good friends do, go to a ball game together.

"Yeah, I promise. It'll be fun."

"…okay," I smile at him and the conversation suddenly shifts to another topic.

Before long Stan and I rise to leave, and I say my final goodbye's to the Marsh's getting hugs from the both of them. Just as we open the door to leave we're both startled at seeing Bebe gracing the porch, her hand raised about ready to knock.

"Bebe!" Stan says in surprise, and I watch confused as his face turns cold. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to visit your parents," she says hesitantly as she glances at me before looking behind us and greeting Mr. and Mrs. Marsh.

Looking at her I'm just now realizing that Stan hasn't gone off to visit her this entire past week. I guess they're fighting about something, but I'm glad we ran into her.

"I don't want to stop you from your visit, but I can at least say goodbye to you," I tell her with a warm smile.

Instead of smiling back she frowns after sneaking a glance at Stan who is looking ahead at nothing, an annoyed glint in his eyes.

"Yes…Stan told me you were leaving. I'm…sorry to see you go."

Stan snorts loudly and suddenly and Bebe whips her head to him. "I am sorry to see him go!"

I have a funny feeling their fight has something to do with me, but I don't ask and she, almost as if to prove Stan wrong, envelopes me in a tight hug. "I _will _miss you Kyle. You should come back and visit okay?" She says softly and I nod into her blonde curls before pulling away.

"I already have plans too," I tell her honestly when I think of the invite I've already received from Stan. Not that I figured I'd never come back here. Mercedes, Lexus, Porscha, and Chef mean enough to me that I wouldn't turn my back on Colorado for another eleven years.

"Kyle and I need to get going Bebe, he has a lot of packing to do," Stan's harsh voice cuts in and we step away from her. Bebe sighs but gives me a tight smile as she makes her way past us and into the house where the Marsh's are waiting.

"Are you and Bebe fighting?" I ask the obvious question once we're back in his car and on the main road.

"Yeah."

"Oh." I say nothing more and Stan doesn't elaborate, not that he ever does.

"Kyle," he starts suddenly at a red light, turning to face me.

"Yeah?" I ask not being able to keep the blatant hope out of my voice.

Stan darts his blue eyes back ahead, pauses, and let's out a long sigh, "never mind," he mumbles. I jump slightly when he bangs a fist against his steering wheel, but I don't mention anything of it, and neither does he.

"Do you think Craig and Token are around?" I speak up timidly, when we've been driving around for awhile in dead silence.

I haven't spoken with either of them since New Years. No…particular reason. I've just been busy. At the time, work and Stan alone took a lot out of me.

"They're always around," he responds and pulls into a fast food place before backing up and turning around. As I'm about to ask where we're going he pulls into a driveway and I recognize Craig's house. He and Token are even sitting outside of it. Craig is sitting on the railing of the porch and Token is sitting on the steps talking to him. Both look over at the sight and sound of Stan's car entering the driveway. The second we step out of the car, Craig speaks up.

"Well, well, well…if today wasn't already a weird day now I'm seeing Staney with Kyle. Token tell me I've lost my mind."

"Stop being so dramatic," the other boy says clearly on the brink of rolling his eyes. Token stands and looks at us strangely before his eyes rest on me. "How've you been Kyle, haven't seen you since New Years."

I shrug apologetically, "I've been good. You?"

"Same, having to deal with him," he gestures his head pointedly at Craig. "But I'm used to it."

"You act like I'm difficult asshole," Craig replies as he hopes off the railing and approaches the rest of us.

"You are," Token replies to him raising a black eyebrow.

Frowning and deciding to ignore his friend Craig looks over at Stan and me, "so what brings you both here…together?"

I suck in a breath, "I wanted to say goodbye to you guys."

"Goodbye?" The both say puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm…going back home, not tomorrow, but the day after."

"What, why?" Craig asks sounding dismayed at the idea.

"I think its best," I answer.

"And you, you think it's best to be driving him away you fucker?" Craig growls over at Stan who scowls at him.

"He's not driving me away," I cut Craig off. "At least not anymore, it was my idea to leave, but we've sorta…resolved our problems."

"But the agreement from Kenny?" Token questions.

I sigh, "Is going to be broken."

"Wait, slow down," Craig says seriously. "You two," he points at us, "after two months of hell, get along now?" We nod. "You get along," he continues, "but you're leaving _anyway_?" He asks sounding confused at the idea.

"I think its best," I repeat myself.

"Maybe I am the idiot everyone makes me out to be but I'm confused at why you're leaving if you both get along now," he frowns at the both of us.

"Kyle wants to go back home and that's that," Stan speaks up finally. "Leave it there."

"And you?" Token asks quietly to Stan and we all look at him. He shrugs and says nothing. "Godamnit Stan," he mutters.

"At least we're parting on good terms right?" I ask trying to be cheerful.

"You shouldn't be parting at all you two are like-"

"Craig," Stan interrupts staring at him hard. The brunette sighs but shuts his mouth.

"I wanted to say goodbye," I say once more and look at the two of them. They look more dejected than I would have thought they would be over my leaving. But maybe the look is for Stan and not really for me. I know they worry about him, everyone, it seems, does. "But I'll be back to visit," I assure them and look at Stan, "Stan invited me to a Denver Nuggets game and I'm going to hold him to it, you guys should come with us when we go."

"Yeah," Token nods.

"I guess," Craig replies folding his arms over his chest. "This is adios then Kyle?"

"For now."

Craig gives me a half hearted hug and Token follows suit. "Guess it was good to see you, even if it was only three times in two months," Token says to me as he lets me go. "Keep in contact this time alright?"

"Definitely," I smile at them and turn to Stan noticing that he had been standing to the side most of the time and looking off.

"Ready to go?" He asks suddenly when he catches me staring. I nod, and we head back into his car and back out of Craig's driveway. I wave at them before I've lost sight and Stan turns a corner.

"That's it I suppose," I mutter. "We can go back to the apartment now, unless you have something else to do today?"

"No."

Once home, Stan heads for the kitchen and I fall down on the couch and pull out my phone. I can't avoid the inevitable forever, I have to call my mom and tell her I'm returning home.

**Stan**

I…there's nothing I can do. I can't think of anything at all that I can do. I even voluntarily took Kyle around South Park yesterday to say his goodbye's. What is this? I was supposed to think of something, even if it was drastic, but…nothing.

For the most part of today Kyle has been out of the apartment. He's been gathering last minute packing supplies and his cell phone has been ringing off the hook with friends and family all wanting to know why he's coming home early. As far as I know he hasn't told anyone exactly why he's returning.

I had offered to make him breakfast this morning but he declined since Mercedes had called him to invite him out. Apparently yesterday's goodbye wasn't enough for her or the other girls and they insisted on seeing him once more before he left.

I've been inside all day, thinking, and coming up with nothing, and now it's nighttime and Kyle is back and he's helping me to fix dinner again.

I could have gotten used to this. The both of us making dinner, talking like the best of friends, laughing, I could do this forever with him.

As soon as dinner is finished the sinking inside of me falls lower and I bite my lip in aggravation as I wash the dishes angrily. I hear the sound of Kyle pushing his chair back and I ditch the plate I was washing to approach him. "Do you…maybe want to go out for dessert or something?"

Kyle looks like he's about to say yes but he stops himself, shaking his head. "I shouldn't. I have to finish packing, I mean I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I still have over half my room to put in boxes."

I rush both my hands through my hair, "do you need any help?"

"…yeah, thanks."

Together we walk into his room which looks like a disaster area, there's stuff all over the place.

"What exactly have you done?" I ask looking around at everything. It doesn't look as if he packed a single thing away.

"I separated everything into piles I want them packed in boxes." He starts to point at the piles and describes how everything in the pile is connected. It actually makes a lot of sense once he explains things to me.

Working side by side in his room we don't talk much. What we're doing just seems so final. Till this very moment I cant think of a single thing I could possibly say or do that could get Kyle to change his mind and not fly home in…I glance at the clock in his room, nine hours. Nine hours. We have to leave to drive him to the airport in nine hours.

"Alright," I say slowly looking around. "Is everything packed?" I ask him softly not facing him as I look out Kyle's mountain view. The one that won't be his for much longer.

"Just about," he responds straightening to his full height as he packs in a few meaningless possessions in a last box. "I've just got tape up a few boxes and then…I think I'm done." I can feel him look over to me I turn slowly to face him.

"Great," I say even though I know my face doesn't relay anything of greatness. "I'll make sure to ship them all to you."

He nods, running a hand through his hair, "thanks."

It was irritating to say the least. Kyle was leaving soon and things barely begun to be resolved between us. It's felt like the last few days of us getting along never really happened and it might as well not have since he's going back to California.

"You should get to bed," he says suddenly to me, interrupting my thoughts. "You've got a full load this week don't you?"

"I do," I tell him thinking of all the homework I need to catch up on since I skipped but, not moving from my position in front of the window.

"Well…goodnight Stan," he says softly, a polite gesture of asking me to leave his room. I do so and he closes the door behind him.

"Night Kyle," I mutter to myself since there's no way he can hear me. With a dejected sigh I make my way to my own bedroom and prepare for bed. Laying down in my queen sized bed I notice for the first time how big it is. What in the hell possessed me to get such a freakishly large bed for one person?

I sigh in annoyance knowing there's nothing I can do about it now, and just try to get some sleep. I'll be getting rid of it soon anyway.

But I can't stop. I can't stop thinking, and I can't stop tossing and turning. And I know these walls are paper thin so Kyle can probably hear me pounding my pillows and constantly rearranging my sheets as I try to get comfortable.

It's impossible. I sit up and look across at my shut door. I wonder if Kyle is still awake. I shouldn't go check, he needs to sleep, and he probably wouldn't want me to bother him…but I just, I can't sleep. Releasing a long sigh I swing my legs over the side of my bed, stand and head for Kyle's room. I wince at the creak his door makes as I slowly open it.

"Kyle?" I whisper out quietly. He turns to face me in the dark, though I can't exactly make out his facial features clearly

"Yeah?" He whispers back, which makes me wonder why we're whispering as we're the only two in the apartment. I clear my throat which doesn't need any clearing, "I haven't woken you up have I?"

"No," He states flatly.

"Oh…good. Hey um…I can't sleep." It takes me awhile to realize that he's waiting for me to continue but I catch on. "I got that huge bed and I'm still not used to sleeping alone anymore…it's unnerving having all that empty space around me…" I stop to rub my arms slightly. "Can I sleep in here with you?"

I can almost see his eyes widen in the dark at my request.

"Kenny and I used to sleep together all the time when we were little," I add on as if that'll help him make his decision. And actually the words 'when we were _little_' rings in my thoughts but I shake them away and watch as after a long moment he silently pulls back his covers to invite me in.

I climb in beside Kyle after closing his door with a small sigh of relief. I really thought he'd say no. It was an odd question, two grown male's sharing a bed? And when I've comfortably climbed in I realize I probably should have suggested we move to my bed. It's queen sized and Kyle's is only a double.

"Thanks Kyle," I mutter to him releasing a yawn. Now that there's another body beside me my body seems to be recognizing that it is in fact tired and I barely hear him tell me you're welcome before I drift asleep.

The sound of someone muttering quietly to themselves wakes me up when its still the dead of the night. My body's warm and heated and with it always being cold it feels nice. There's a slight bit of warm air being slowly and repeatedly blown on me and after it starts to get a little obnoxious I open my eyes coming face to face with a mop of red hair.

I instantly go rigid before I can think anything more about it. But after looking at his calm sleeping face I relax and take note of what's happened in the few hours that we've been asleep. It looks like we've shifted closer, no doubt due to the fact that it's freezing in here.

I lean away slowly from Kyle to look around his room. The heat must have turned itself off and at some point in the course of us sleeping we kicked off the comforter only leaving his thin sheet as cover. Its no wonder our bodies moved closer for warmth…but for them to entangle the way they have? Because I can feel my legs mixed with another set, and last I checked I didn't grow a few more.

Going slowly so as not to wake him, I shift my body back to its own side of the bed and continue to stare at Kyle. Without thinking I reach out a hand a grab a little bit of his hair watching as it springs back into place when I release it. I think it's official, it's not just wavy now, it's curly. Not tight curls, but looser ones.

I hold my breath when Kyle mutters something and shifts starting to slowly open his eyes. I should not have pulled on his hair like that. He looks over at me drowsily and then he suddenly lets out a yell.

"AHH!"

"AHH!" I yell back and wince in pain after he's pushed me off the bed and onto the floor.

"Oh jeez, shit, sorry Stan!" He says and I see as he leans over the side just in time to see me rub my head slightly. "But you scared me! What were you doing looking at me so closely like that for?!"

I sit up and accept his hand as he helps me up. I sit on the side of his bed and look over at him. "I had only just woken up myself, I didn't mean to startle you," I tell him.

"Oh," rubs his neck slightly. "This bed just isn't made for two people." I nod quietly in agreement before glancing at his clock, and he catches me doing so. "We can probably get a couple more hours of sleep before we have to get up and get going."

My face falls, and I can't help myself. I suddenly grab a hold of him and bury my face into the crook of his neck. He tenses immediately, but I can't blame him, I'd do the same if someone just grabbed a hold of me. I take a deep breath. I don't know if I've ever consciously realized it but he smells like nothing I've smelt before. He smells like him, a mixture of all his expensive shampoo, cologne, and body wash, but it's all very faint since it's been hours since he's used any of it. There's also a natural smell, that's just him, the smell his body creates. It's just Kyle.

"Please don't go," I mutter invading the tense silence that I created by grabbing a hold of him.

He takes such a long time to answer that I wonder if he even heard me.

"…I already have my plane ticket. I already told my mom, my friends. We already told Zanadaci." He finally responds quietly and I sigh, continuing to leave my head where it is.

"But if you go," I start again. "I'll never see you again. I want to see you again." I don't think I can argue with him, if he says he's going to go again, I won't have it in me to fight him on it. "Please don't go," I repeat.

"…okay. I won't go."

I can't help it. I lift my head and push away to stare over at him in disbelief as there was no resistance. Kyle hadn't told me the reasons he couldn't stay to argue with me, they're just simple statements, facts we both knew. He _did _have a plane ticket to go back to California, he _had _told his mother and his friends he was coming home early, we_ did _tell Zanadaci that we had agreed to dissolve the agreement early and he had probably filed the papers already.

"You'll stay, really, even though you're unhappy here?" I ask him.

He looks at me closely before pulling me back into him in an embrace. "I'm not unhappy here anymore; I haven't been for the past couple of days."

"What got you stay all of a sudden?"

"It's not sudden. Until now, you've never asked me."

"What?!" I protest and pull away from him again. "Yes I have!"

"Dude, no you haven't. You've said you've wanted me to stay, you've tried to bully me into staying, tried to guilt me into staying, and lately it's seemed like you haven't wanted to be stay at all, but you haven't ever asked me."

I stare at him in silence and try to think over the last week. He has to be full of it. But as I rethink all of our recent conversations I realize I _haven't _just asked him.

"But it was so simple," I mutter. "Were you not really going to go at all?"

"Of course I was, why would I buy a ticket of I didn't plan on using it? They're non-refundable you know."

"…you were really going to go home?"

"Yeah."

"Even if all I had to do was ask you stay here?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

I instantly get angry, but then just ask quickly it deflates and I find myself confused before I just stop trying to make sense of it. "You're really going to stay here with me?"

"I'm really going to stay here with you."

"Thank you," I say and reach out enveloping him in a hug again. I wonder if he knows the extent to how happy he's made me.

"…sure. I didn't really want to go anyway, I told myself I wanted to go time after time, and that it was for the best if I left but I never truly wanted to leave…I was prepared to, but I didn't want to. Only, Stan?"

"What is it?" I ask pulling back again and going back into my own personal space.

"…do you really want me to stay here, or…do you just want me to stay here because of the agreement?"

"Both," I can't lie and say that I'm not happy we get to complete the agreement, but at least I realize it goes past the agreement.

"…you'd want me here even after that night I slammed you repeatedly into a wall," he asks me, staring.

"Yeah, I respond calmly.

"But…" he stops and it seems like he's going to reach out and touch the back of my head but he stops and lowers his hand back onto his lap. "I could have given you a concussion."

"Yeah, but I'm fine, it was just a bump."

"You should kick me out; you were supposed to kick me out."

"It's not just my place, you live here too. I would never ask you to leave, when have I ever asked you to leave? I might have said I didn't want you here and that I couldn't wait for you to go, but I haven't ever asked you to."

Kyle bites his lip as he looks at me, "I'm still not going to apologize for what I did by the way."

"I didn't think you would. That's okay too, I'll get you back for that, I don't know when, but someday."

He glares at me before sighing, "ah, Stan do you think we can really make this work? You piss me off…so much. Even though we've been getting along the past few days I can't help but think back to all the little things you did to get under my skin."

"The feelings sort of mutual," I agree nodding. "But I don't hate you, and you don't hate me right?" He shakes his head. "So we can do this…as long as you promise not to buy any more black shit."

Kyle snorts, "just promise not to break anything else."

I chuckle lightly and glance at the window, it's twilight out, which means sunset is only a little ways away.

"You're _really_ going to stay?" I ask him once more, hesitantly, almost as if I'll scare him away if I speak in any other tone.

"_Yes_," he answers exasperated and I nod to him. "Just," he starts. "One more condition."

"…what is it?"

"We have got to a television. I can't stand the constant silence when you're not here. I'm used to loud and rowdy dorm rooms, not quiet apartment complexes."

Stan nods with a tiny smile on his lips, "I'll call a cable company later on today."

"And I'll buy a television."

-

Eventually we went back to sleep, in our separate rooms, in our separate beds. It was a lot easier for me to sleep knowing there wasn't anything to worry about. With the thoughts of Kyle's leaving long gone it was easy to fall back asleep. The second I wake back up again I grab my cell and dial for Kenny's lawyer.

"Mr. Zanadaci?"

"Ah, Stan, what is it that I can do for you?"

"Uhm," I scratch the back of my head. "We know you've already filed the papers and that we're supposed to come in today to sign them off but…Kyle's decided to stay…we've decided to continue riding out the agreement. Is there any way we can like…start over again?"

"Ah! What marvelous news, but no need to start over. I never filed the papers to begin with."

"What?" I ask confused.

"Stan, if there was one thing Kenny and I agreed upon from the beginning about all this was that I would have to trust him. He said that you two would, under no circumstances, not follow through with this agreement. And while, he may not have anticipated this little bump, the point is he knew in the end it'd somehow be fulfilled, so I had you both sign off on nothing more than a made up document. There was nothing legal about it, so in all honesty things are the same as they were two months ago."

"…and the credit cards?"

"Still perfectly activated. Come now Stan, I'm far older than you I've learned a thing or two about you teenage boys, I used to be one at one point in time, and it's that we're fickle. I knew all I had to do was give you both some time with very limited advice. I knew you'd both come around, but really Stan, the _day _Kyle is to leave? Even I was holding my breath a little bit."

I stare at my cell phone in incredulity before shaking my head. "Well thanks for the confidence Mr. Zanadaci."

"You are very welcome. Do expect me back in a couple of weeks to check on your progress. It would be nice to hear that things are finally going well."

"You and me both, have a good day Mr. Zanadaci."

"You too Stan, do tell Kyle I said hello."

"Will do," I say hanging up the phone.

"Stan!" Kyle knocks on my door. "I thought you had to get to class!"

"Oh shit!" I curse and jump out of bed. Flinging open my bedroom door Kyle is standing there looking amused and I scowl at it. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to beg for your job back from Chef?"

"I won't have to beg for it back, once he finds out I'm staying he'll be more than happy to give it back to me, and for your information I'm already ready to go."

"Then why are you still here?" I ask as I head back for my closet pulling off a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"I'm hungry," he responds and I turn to face him, and see that he's sitting on my bed. "And you haven't made me breakfast yet, so how can I leave?"

I smile at him and shake my head. "Ever heard of toast?"

End of Part II

**-FG**

**AN: **This was especially hard to write because I only had a _vague _idea of what I could get Stan to do to convince Kyle to stay in South Park in _three_ days, even though Kyle had already made up his mind to go. And to think all he had to do was ask. :) Of course Kyle was going to stay. It DOES say slash in the first chapter you know. I'm not evil :D

And yes, it's the end of Part II! Let's recap shall we? Part I was 13 chapters and was about meeting each other again, Part II was 12 chapters and was about living together, so will Part III be 11 chapters? Who knows, I certainly don't, but I guess you could say it's about…understanding each other/shrugs/ I'm two thirds of the way done, so you know what this part will be all about don't you/wink/ Ahaha, it is SUCH a pleasure to write for all of you and now after 25 chapters of setting things up, we can FINALLY get to the romance.


	26. Kyle and Stan II

Short Stories with Tragic Endings  
Part III

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

"You're what?"

"I'm staying!" I beam at Chef.

"But just two days ago you were going."

"I know, I changed my mind and decided to stay here and fulfill the agreement with Stan. So I was wondering if I could have my job back?" I feel like I don't even have to ask Chef if I can have it back, I know him too well now. I know he's more than happy to give me my-

"I already filled your position," Chef replies a little guiltily, cutting off my train of thought. "But-"

"What?" This time I'm the one who's thrown. "I only just said I'd be leaving a couple days ago! How can it already be filled?"

"Well Kyle, you brought in a lot of business and I needed someone right away, and he offered, but-"

"Who offered?" I ask looking around for the person who quickly replaced me.

"I offered," I turn around and look at Craig who is grinning at me. "It's better than working at the rec store, I couldn't stand that job."

I furrow my eyebrows and slight annoyance. "You took my-" I'm cut off and cringe at\the high-pitched squeal I suddenly hear. Chef and Craig look over at the source of the noise, but I don't feel the need to. I know what made it, and I brace myself for their impact.

"Cutie!" I'm wrapped in a tangle of arms, hair, and overwhelming amounts of perfume that shouldn't be mixed. Mercedes is the first one to release me from the hold.

"Sweetie, what are you doing here? I thought you would be on your way home now?"

"Oh yeah!" Lexus retreats and cocks her head to the side curiously. "I thought that too. Did your flight get delayed or something?"

"No I've…decided to stay here," I say sheepishly avoiding their eyes. It's a little embarrassing to have said so many goodbyes only to end up staying.

"That's so perfect!" Porscha cheers, still clinging to my left arm. "I was so sad that you were going, but now you're not!" As she says this I notice that I'm being pulled in the direction of a booth and forced down as they normally do with me.

"Yeah, it's great that he pulled through," Mercedes muses.

"That who pulled what?" I ask her somewhat distractedly, trying to pry my arm from Porscha's grasp—the girl has one hell of a grip.

"Stan," Lexus pipes up; "he said he'd get you to stay and he did. I always did like him."

"Me too," Porscha adds.

"Wait _Stan _said that to you girls?"

"To everyone in the restaurant sweetie," Mercedes says nodding.

"When?" I ask confused.

"When you guys were here yesterday, you already left by then. Hey Red, aren't you going to take my order?" Porscha asks curiously as she looks me over. "I want something different today."

Stan told everyone I would stay? That's interesting to know…

"You okay in there cutie?" Lexus is leaning over the table slightly.

"Huh? Oh yeah…Porsch, I don't work here anymore so I wont be taking your order."

"What?!" She finally releases me to cross her arms over her chest. "First you leave and then you don't. Now you're not going to be our waiter anymore? Well then who is?"

"I will be," Craig appears at the side of the table, notepad in hand, still grinning.

"You?" Mercedes doesn't look pleased and I can tell by the way she looks him up and down. She turns her eyes back to me, "I don't think so." She raises a hand and waves Chef over, when he doesn't notice she finally yells out his name. "CHEF!"

"Yes Mercedes?" He asks amused and slightly irritated.

"Why won't you hire Red again? Eating here won't be the same." The other two girls nod in agreement I nod as well.

Chef looks over at me, "I realize that, and before he had interrupted me so many times I had been trying to say that you've brought in so much new business that I need two waiters. I was going to hire someone else, but of course I'd prefer to hire you back. The customers love you Kyle, and you know it."

"Oh," I and the girls say together.

"Is that you accepting the job again?" Chef laughs out.

"Yeah, of course!"

"Great," he tosses a notepad at me from where he dug it out of his side pockets. "You start now. Craig head over to table one, Kyle works with the girls."

"Sure," Craig pats my shoulder smiling. "It'll be nice to be coworkers, huh Kyle?"

I nod smiling back at him and stand up ready to get back to work, and ready to go on as planned in South Park.

-

"Fuck," Craig swears out as he slides into a booth.

Cherry Kiss is closed for the day. We're closing earlier than normal, in the middle of the afternoon, since Chef has a date and he apparently doesn't trust us enough that he'll leave his business in the hands of two twenty year old guys. I laugh as I wipe down a table at Craig's reaction.

"I'm exhausted, and it's only three in the afternoon! Who knew being a waiter would wear me out. And those customers, they're fucking sharks! How do you deal with them?"

"I think they're just testing you…to see if you're worth their time," I smirk and throw a wet rag on his lap. "Help me out here," I say to him and he stands back up grudgingly to start cleaning the table in front of him.

"Testing me for what, did they treat you like an incompetent four year old when you started?"

I laugh, "no, but they thought you were going to replace me permanently, and eventually you will I suppose. I'm only here for another two and a half months. After that they'll have to deal with you and…at this point I don't think they like it."

"I can tell," he grumbles to himself. "…so you're staying?"

"Yeah."

"What changed your mind?—Staney get around to asking you?"

I pause in what I'm doing to look over at Craig, wearing a surprised expression. "How did you know?"

"What, you mean that's how he _actually_ got you to stay?" He responds in awe before laughing. "Trust him to not do the obvious."

Filling up a few salt containers I smile lightly. "Yeah…and he actually…" I trail off, remembering what happened only last night. How he asked to sleep in my double bed, and how I let him. I shocked even myself when I let him; the only guy I've ever shared a bed with was Ike, and that was when he had been younger and had been in this phase of having nightmares every night. It seemed to have calmed him down to sleep beside me, so I let him for awhile, and our parents were none the wiser.

Letting Stan was a whole different story, but I had heard him tossing and turning in his room, and he had calmed down almost instantly and fell asleep rather quickly when I let him in my bed. So it was worth it getting kicked occasionally by him as we slept. If I hadn't I wonder…would he have asked me to stay? I smile affectionately as I think over it. The timing was right, the atmosphere perfect…I can't believe he had actually reached out to me for once. Grabbed a hold of me, he's never done that, never made the first move and I was so surprised that he probably could have asked me anything at that moment, and I would have agreed readily to it, no matter what it would have been.

When he told me not to go I could hear the defeat, the resolution in his voice. I knew that if I had said I was going then he wouldn't have bugged me about it anymore. He would have let me go, the agreement would have been broken, I would have come up to visit every so often, but we definitely would never be anything more than casual acquaintances. He never would forgive me, accept me maybe, but not forgive.

"Dude?" I hear Craig's soft voice and look up slightly from the table I realize I had been staring at silently, unmoving, for a long time. "Everything okay? You kinda trailed off there and haven't moved since."

I shake my head smiling and run my fingers through my hair, noticing they don't get very far before getting stuck. "Sorry, I was just thinking about something, but I'm fine."

"You should be fine. The dynamic duo is back together, all is well in the world."

I give Craig a bewildered look, but he brushes it off and we continue the closing duties until Chef comes from the back telling us we can leave. When we head out to the parking lot I see Token hanging an arm out of the window of his expensive car looking bored. He glances up when Craig approaches and frowns. "It's about fucking time, hurry up and get your car fixed, I'm not your damn chauffer, why couldn't you have called your mom or da- Kyle?" He interrupts his rant to Craig when he sees me walk up from behind.

I say a quick goodbye to Chef before turning back to Token, smiling.

"What the…I thought you'd be back in California by now?"

"Nope I'm staying, last minute decision."

He eyes me carefully but only nods, "then we'll see you around?"

"Definitely."

"Good, get in the car Craig," he barks to his friend and Craig does so after giving him a mock salute. "See you soon Kyle."

They drive off and I settle myself in my own car, turning on the engine after I've turned my cell phone on. I had forgotten to earlier and I gawk at the number of missed calls and voice mails before the color leaves my face.

I completely forgot to tell people back home I wouldn't be returning. I have about a million calls from my mother, about twenty from Frey and a shit load of miscellaneous ones. They must think I'm dead, and listening to one of my mother's voice mails she in fact proclaims I'd better be dead in a ditch somewhere from worrying everyone.

On the drive to an electronics store, I'm going to go buy a television; I at least call Frey and tell him how I changed my mind. He doesn't seem particularly surprised but he still sounded a little irritated as he had driven all the way to the airport waiting for someone who wasn't going to come off a plane. Now I owe him another one.

I pull into the store lot, deciding not to listen to the rest of the messages until I've bought what I wanted. It doesn't take long to pick out a TV set. I probably shouldn't invest in anything big, but the forty inch flat screen honestly did call out to me, and it was a bargain. Since I don't have the credit card back from Mr. Zanadaci I use my own, pretending I don't see how much money I'm paying for it. Oh well, in the end, when the agreement is over I'll get to keep the set for myself.

After arranging to have it delivered to the apartment later on in the afternoon I head back out to the car and make my way home. I wonder if Stan has called the cable company yet... When I pull into my parking spot I weigh the pros and cons of calling my mother. Instead I opt out and leave a message on Ike's cell phone, asking him to pass on the message to mom. I'm sure I'll owe him one too. Sighing as I lift my body from the car, I squint slightly when I hear the distinct sound of people fighting. After double-checking that my car is locked I walk cautiously toward the outside stairs of the complex, realizing the sound of fighting is getting louder and is starting to become recognizable.

It's Stan and Bebe. Stan is inside our apartment arms folded glaring down at Bebe and her cheeks are flushed as she glares up at him.

I side step behind a beam before they see me and listen in on the conversation. Not to eavesdrop but where else am I supposed to go? Stan is blocking the front door; it doesn't appear as if he'll invite Bebe inside anytime soon…and honestly…I've been wondering what exactly they're fighting over. I figure it has something to do with me but I can't imagine what.

"…he was going home today?" Bebe asks icily.

"He changed his mind," Stan responds stiffly, causing me to wince. I remember that tone all too well.

"So you're not moving back home with me?"

"No."

There's a long stretch of silence and I'm tempted to peer over and see what's going on when I suddenly hear a short choked intake of breath, and the sound of sniffing. Screw it, I peer over and my good mood falls. Bebe has started crying and she's hiding her face in her hands as Stan remains where he is looking down at her as she cries.

Finally, though, he grabs her and wraps her in a tight hug in which she responds to automatically.

"I'm sorry," I hear her mutter into Stan's chest as he gently strokes her hair. He doesn't say anything but I'm suddenly very uncomfortable with my situation. Maybe I'll go for a drive or something. I start to back away slowly before turning and silently heading back down the stairs.

**Stan**

This is the first real fight Bebe and I have had in a long time and it's over Kyle…now that I think about it, our last big fight was over Kenny.

And now I can't help but forgive her. She's my fiancée and I do love her, she's not perfect and what she said about being happy that Kyle was leaving pissed me off, but I know why she said it. We haven't been spending much time together and I know that affects her, especially since she's at the apartment alone most of the day.

As I continue to hug her while she cries softly into my chest a slight movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I don't see who it is, but I could swear I saw a trace of red hair.

Kyle.

I pull away from Bebe, my extended arms resting on her shoulders. She looks up at me confused. "I'll come by tonight, for dinner okay?" I tell her and she smiles, still half crying and nods. I drop a kiss on her forehead. "I have to make a call…do you want to come in or…?" I make it sound like a question so she knows I don't necessarily want her to leave, but that at the same time I would prefer it if she did.

"No, no," she sniffs. "…just look at me," she mutters to herself. "I come barging in like this, I know you have things to do, but I'll see you tonight. Any requests for dinner?" She asks, the cheeriness in her voice starting to filter in.

"Anything you want to have Bee," I respond placing a smile on my own lips.

"Okay," she sniffs again and gently drops a fist into her other hand. "I'll think of something really delicious."

I laugh. I really don't like staying mad at Bebe, not after the two of us have been through so much together. She takes a tentative step toward me and I almost fight the urge to laugh. She looks so cute standing there looking awkward. I can tell she's still a little unsure if I've really forgiven her. Gathering her in my arms I give her a gentle kiss and grin at the way her breathing shudders.

"I love you Stan," she whispers to me.

"I know you do, and I love you too…but I gotta get going."

"Oh right," she laughs lightly and pulls way. "See you tonight!" She says waving before she turns and heads back down the stairs.

I stare after her for awhile, watching the spot she just occupied before I sigh and am jolted back into reality. Walking back into the apartment I glance around for my phone, finding it on the table. Dialing Kyle's cell I wait for him to pick up. When he doesn't I frown. What the hell? I know that was him, so why isn't he picking up his phone?

I decide he may have left it at work and decide I might as well go look for him. Pulling on a jacket, since it's starting to get cooler out, I head out of the apartment. I'm wondering why he walked off like that. Maybe he didn't feel like he ought to ruin the "moment" Bebe and I were having. But I don't want him to feel uncomfortable, like he can't come into his own apartment if Bebe and I are talking outside of it.

Before I even get to the stairs I'm stopped as I watch two guys in delivery uniforms making their way up with a giant package between them. I step aside to let them pass me and am about to continue down when one of them calls out to me. "Yo, you live here in 240E?"

I turn back at them a nod confused, I don't remember ordering anything. "Yeah, I do," I respond approaching them. I nod at the package. "What's that?"

"The television you bought," the guy responds. "Paid in full by one…" He pauses and glances down at the set which has an order number, bar code, and name on it. "Kyle Brof- well, Kyle B."

"Oh," I take a good look at the package. "He's not here, but can I sign off on it?"

"Sure," the guy hands me an electronic pen and I sign its matching pad, a little annoyed that I won't get to go after Kyle, and let them into the apartment.

"We can hang it up for you; installation is free with the delivery."

"Hang it up?" I question. "What kind of set did he buy?"

"Plasma forty flat wide-screen," the man responds with an approving nod. "Guy's got good taste."

I gawk at the description and gawk even more as the guys unwrap the thing. Good God. I mindlessly direct them where to hang it. We don't have that many options and we all have to rearrange the furniture a bit, but when it's done we all stand back to look at it. It's incredible, and the three of us would probably have stood there all day staring at its beauty, but Kyle's voice snaps me back to the present.

"Oh good it got here! That was fast," he says as he sets his things on the table. I didn't even hear him walk in. He walks over to where the three of us are and nods to himself. "I knew it'd look good in here."

I'm not entirely sure how Kyle is capable of looking away from the set, but he does and heads into his room. When he comes out a moment later, changed into a more casual pair of jeans, he looks at us confused. "What are you people doing?" He asks, realizing, I think, that me and the two delivery guys are enamored with the set.

"Huh?" One of the delivery guys mutter, but when he sees Kyle he shakes his head. "Err, fuck, Ernie," he says and nudges the guy beside him. "We have to get back to the warehouse!"

Ernie, as the other guy calls him, takes a moment longer before blinking and nodding in agreement. The delivery guys give us a nod, and give our TV one last look before they head out.

"What was that?" Kyle asks confused.

"We were just looking at the TV."

"But it's off, speaking of which have you called the cable company?" He continues as he heads into the kitchen. I follow him and watch as he pulls out a root beer. "Want one?" He asks and I nod. Kyle tosses me a can and closes the fridge before popping his drink open.

I shake my head, "I haven't called them yet, I was going to but then Bebe came over for a bit…"

Kyle nods, "I saw her."

"And I saw you."

"Oh," he smiles sheepishly, blushing slightly. "Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt anything."

"It's okay…and Kyle?"

"Hm?" He questions as he takes a long sip of his drink.

"I don't want you to feel like you'd be interrupting us. If we're outside…it's okay. You live here as well right?"

He pulls his pop from his lips. "Yeah, I know."

There's a pause, and I know it's because neither of us knows what to say next. As easy as conversation can come between us, it's just as easy for silence to reign.

"You're back early from work," I point out finally.

"Oh!" That seems to alert something in his memory, "that's right. Chef filled my position!"

"So quickly?" I ask frowning.

"Yeah, I mean in the end he said he needed both of us, but you'll never guess who my new coworker is!"

"Craig?"

Kyle's excitement fades. "How did you guess?"

I snort. "It was just that, a guess…but he's been looking to dump his old job anyway. Sorry you have to work with him."

Kyle laughs, and I watch him silently. His laugh is always lighthearted. I've never heard him belt out or lose complete control over it, save a drunken moment. It makes me wonder sometimes if he's practiced having a controlled laugh or if he's really just that elegant of a laugher.

"No, it was fun. We get along really well. The customers don't seem to like him much, but they'll get over it since once I doleave, Craig is going to be their permanent waiter."

That's right. I forgot. At some point, Kyle _will_ leave to go back to California. I'm not sure how I feel about that at this point.

"What were your plans for the rest of the day?" he asks me.

"Hmm," I think over it for a moment. "Well, call the cable company for one, then I guess we should go back to Zanadaci's and pick up the credit cards again…how did you rent the set anyway?" I ask realizing he must have paid for it out of his pocket.

"I'm not renting it I bought it with my own savings. Don't ask me how much I spent," he says looking slightly grim, but he quickly brushes it off. "Did you have any other plans?"

"Not really, maybe stop at the restaurant to give my boss some paperwork he had been requesting of me, oh, and then I'm having dinner at Bebe's tonight, since we made up and all."

He looks as if he wants to ask me something but he doesn't for a second, then I can watch as he changes his mind. "Why were you two fighting anyway, if I can ask?"

I instantly look away. Do I want to tell him the fight was more or less over him? I know Kyle really likes Bebe, and I'm not sure if how what she said would affect him. That she was more than happy to see him leave. So I wave it off. "It was just over something she said to me awhile back."

He nods and I'm happy to see he's going to leave it at that.

"I should call the cable company before they close," I continue, realizing the time. Kyle doesn't say anything so I pick up my phone and dial information to get the number of the company. After I talk to the representative we hang up and I inform Kyle that they'll be by in two days to hook us up. He nods and we lapse back into silence.

When I settle myself on the couch that is now facing the television set, Kyle joins me and sits on the opposite side. I watch him from my peripheral vision as he stares at the black screen.

"It really takes the attention away from the window," he suddenly says turning to look at me.

I redden when I notice that he must have known I was staring at him. Clearing my voice I glance over at the large window. "Yeah, that's true," I say in listless agreement.

Fuck what is with us? We finally have the opportunity to rekindle our old friendship and I can't think of much to say to him. Before it was all about arguing and then it was about getting him to stay, or about food, or Bebe, just general topics to make it feel like we were becoming friends. Before I would be at school then work so when I came home conversation was plain and to the point before I went to bed. But now, with a more limitless time frame I'm not sure what we should talk about. There is no school and I'm not at work and neither is Kyle. Now we have time to spend together. I wish the TV was working now, because then we could cover the tension with the sounds of actors and commercials.

"Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?" I whip my head back over toward him. He gives me a weird expression before looking at his hands. I watch as a small devious smile starts to play on his lips and it gets me curious.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep in your own bed tonight?"

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I figured that, like on Christmas, he wouldn't mention my actions.

"I think I'll be fine," I manage out.

Kyle laughs to his hands. "Sorry for bringing it up, but how could I not? You looked so adorable asking me to stay."

"Sh-shut up," I respond and if my face can get redder I'm sure it is. He eventually looks up and over at me and I swallow a lump in my throat. He's starting to look like the Kyle from our childhood. The hair, the skin color, he's starting to look like my old best friend, but it's still not feeling the same.

"What is it?" His smile fades and he's starting to look a bit worried.

I raise my hand but quickly drop it when Kyle eyeballs it. "Your hair."

He frowns and picks at it with a hand, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. "I know, don't remind me. It's getting curlier and tighter everyday, damn cold air…" he mutters.

"But it suits you," I point out.

"Pale vampire skin and hair that breaks a comb suits me?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"That's not what I meant."

"You mean to say I look like who I was before." I nod at his response. "Problem with that though," he says as he suddenly stands up. "I'm not who I was before, and I like what I looked like in California. There's nothing wrong with how I looked when I was nine…I guess, but I've changed and I sorta want my appearance to reflect that. We should probably head to Zanadaci's, since we don't know what time his office closes."

I nod in agreement and together we head to Mr. Zanadaci's office, catching him before he leaves to pick up the credit cards we had left with him when we thought we weren't going to need them anymore. By the time we get home again it's practically time for me head over to Bebe's for dinner.

"All right, I'm off," I say almost the second we get inside. I look around to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. "Call if you need anything." Kyle nods silently and I can feel his eyes as they watch me leave.

About halfway down the stairs I stop and rest my hand on the railing. What am I doing? Isn't this one of the reasons Kyle was planning to leave in the first place? Because I left him alone constantly to only spend my time with Bebe? Yet…Bebe and I haven't had any time alone together in over a week. I crane my head to stare at our apartment door for awhile before I turn around completely and head back inside. Kyle is looking over a book in the lounge chair when I almost burst in.

"Did you forget something?" he asks me lightly.

"Yeah," I say, sounding a little out of breath, and not entirely sure why. "You…did you want to come?"

Kyle instantly closes his book, not even bothering to mark his place, "you're inviting me to your dinner with Bebe?"

"Umm, yeah."

"She won't mind?"

"No," I lie.

Yes she might not mind any other day of the week, but on the night of the first instance we've spent alone time together in almost a week? Yeah, she might mind, but she won't show it in front of Kyle, I hope, and I can deal with her later on.

"Well," he bites his lip before smiling at me. "Okay."

**-FG**

**AN: **Sorry for the wait. Finals, overtime, not wanting to write _SSwTE's_ and the occasional writers block kept me away. The only thing I think I accomplished in this chapter was to set things up for future chapters, and because of that I don't think its that interesting of an update. Oh well.

NOW FOR THE EXCITING NEWS!

1 Since _apparently _my editing is getting worse rather than better I've asked **Zakuyoe**, my biggest pointer outer of my grammatical mistakes, to **edit for me**, and he has kindly agreed! Yay! So now there are two of us looking out for my little mistakes. If we still missed some well…jeez, you can't be perfect. But hooray! Thanks Zak! 2 **Syntic** has uploaded **three more glorious pages **of the doujinshi on dA, for those of you that do not already know. But if you're anything like me and you check manically everyday then you already know, leave her comments! 3 Miss **Indiana Beach Bum** has created **a beautiful piece of fanart** for me! Check the link in my bio for that as well, and don't forget to leave her comments too! Whew, that's all :D See you in chapter 27!


	27. Kyle VI

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

I groan into my pillow trying to fight the urge. I'm comfy where I am now; wrapped in my tight warm soft blankets. I'd rather not move but the urge is too great. I angrily toss my blankets aside and make my way to my door. Fumbling with it I step out and head for the bathroom. I knew I should have used it before I fell asleep.

A slight jingling noise causes me to freeze in the middle of the hallway. I'm instantly alert, and the urge to pee disappears. I think someone's in the apartment….

Panicking I slip into the bathroom and grab my toothbrush before quietly making my way through the blinding darkness of the hallway. I see a slight movement near the door, and I raise my toothbrush in the air just as whoever is looming in the dark moves again and flicks on the light.

Stan looks at me like I'm crazy, which I very well might look like. I lower my arm and scowl at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" we both ask each other at the same time.

"_I'm _putting on my shoes to go out for a jog," he says.

I fold my arms, "Why are you getting ready in the dark?"

"So the light doesn't wake you." He raises an eyebrow and studies me, his eyes landing on my weapon of choice. "What exactly were you planning to do with that thing?"

"You scared me a little creeping around, and I grabbed the first thing I could. It just happened to be this."

"And what if I had been someone creeping around, what did you plan on doing? Stab me to death with a toothbrush?"

I frown and ignore his question to ask one of my own. "Do you always go for a jog this early? It's like six in the morning."

"Not usually," he responds as he finishes lacing his sneakers, "but occasionally I do when I have some deep thinking to do."

"How come you never mentioned it before?"

Stan shrugs and stands up. "No reason I guess."

"Can I come too?"

Stan pauses in zipping up his track jacket. "You have ten minutes."

I turn on my heel and head back for my room after using the bathroom and returning my toothbrush to its rightful spot. When I reemerge I'm trying and failing miserably to tame my hair. It's been taking me a good forty-five minutes now to get it in a condition I sorta kinda like. But now I don't have that much time and I see Stan eyeing me in amusement as I try to do something with it. For some reason the curls in the front of my hair are still a little on the "loose" side so they're constantly in my face, dangling irritatingly.

How am I supposed to jog like this?!

"Clip them down," Stan speaks up finally.

"With what exactly, I don't have clips!" I bark at him, continuing to try and pat my hair down and hoping it will simply stay put in a less afro way.

"I've got some of Bebe's somewhere," he mutters and walks off, quickly returning with two black clips that have small little white flowers on them.

"No," I say looking at them.

Stan shrugs, "I was only offering."

"I thought you meant bobby pins, not those things," I murmur and bend down to grab my sneakers and tie them on. The second I lean forward my hair falls forward and I let out a long sigh. "Give them to me please," I say without looking at Stan and holding out my hand. He places the pins on my hand and I pin them accordingly, deciding to at least glance in the bathroom mirror.

I grimace at my reflection. "I look like a fairy," I say as Stan comes up behind me looking at my reflection as well.

"Yeah, you kinda do, but it's pitch black outside and no one's going to notice," he points out. "Let's go."

Glaring at Stan's back I follow behind him and let the matter of the clips go. He's right, it is completely dark outside and we will be running so I doubt anyone will see me.

After doing a few stretches to warm up our muscles we hit the outdoors, and almost instantly I gasp at the temperature. For the most part I've always been cold the entire time I've been here. It's been bright and sunny, but it still has the mountain chill and at six in the morning. I can feel my blood beginning to stop as a result. As Stan locks up he glances at me before sticking the key in his side pant pocket.

"Let's get going before you freeze to death," he says to me and I nod in agreement, taking off in a dash down the stairs. The faster I run the faster I can warm up. "Dude, pace yourself!" I hear him shout at me, "We'll be running for an hour!"

An hour? I slow down and wait for Stan to catch up; when he's beside me I start to follow his lead at a relatively nice paced jog.

"For an hour, huh?" I start to repeat to him. "Where do you go?"

"I don't have a set route. I just jog around for an hour, or when times are rough, until I'm too exhausted to think anymore."

What he says reminds me of what he had mentioned earlier, that he ran to do some thinking.

"…what is it that you have to think about?" I ask cautiously. "Is it about what happened last night?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he says with a sigh. "Sorry Kyle but do you mind if we don't talk?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," I respond quickly and avert my eyes back ahead of me. I stay a slight step or two behind him so that I am able to follow him without possibly getting in his way as he leads us through town.

It's no wonder he says he has some thinking to do. Last night…hadn't been the best of nights and definitely deserves some reflection on his part.

Yesterday when he had left for Bebe's I had been a little dejected. Not only because Stan was leaving, but also because to me it had seemed as if the way I looked now reflected who I no longer was. It made me wonder if what he wanted wasn't me, but the nine year old me. The old curly haired, pale skinned, Kyle. I felt like that was the friend he wanted and I guess…even now I feel like that's who he wants around, but I guess I should try to move past that.

I had grabbed a book and started to rest on the couch, resigning myself to another lonely night, reading, and eating cereal for dinner. I mean, I really did understand the importance of him and Bebe spending time together. They haven't been on really good terms and when I saw them reconciling outside the apartment door I knew that they both missed each other—even Stan, who still had looked a little pissed. I could still see the pain in his eyes as he looked down at Bebe. They were still angry, but they missed the warmth of the girl in front of him.

So while I wasn't happy to be left alone I understood, but then I had heard him come back up the stairs, he opened the door and I figured he forgot something. When he said it was me, and when he invited me, I almost couldn't think of a response. It was the first time he's ever invited me, and while it may sound a bit on the corn ball side I was touched that he would invite me when it should have been a time for him and his fiancée alone.

Stan had said that Bebe wouldn't mind, and that's what I hoped, but even as I agreed I knew that wouldn't be true. I knew she would mind, I should have stayed home. It would have made things easier for Stan, and if I hadn't gone we wouldn't be running in the freezing air right now.

But we did go and he got Bebe's wrath and now he's forced to think about what she's said to him.

When we had gotten home we went to our separate rooms, but before he had closed his door I stuck my hand in causing him to stop to look at me warily.

"Thanks for inviting me," I had said, trying to smile despite the situation. I was surprised when he gave me one back. It was weak, but it was still a smile.

"Sure, good night Kyle," he had said and I said it back before he closed the door and left me standing in the hallway.

After I had gotten ready for bed I sat staring up at my ceiling, Bebe's words repeating over and over in my head. I had wanted to call someone. But I couldn't think of a single soul. I have plenty of good friends in California, really close ones, but…they weren't the sort you called early in the morning because you wanted to talk. They are my close friends, but I couldn't hope to call any of them my _best _friend, not even Frey. I've only ever had one best friend in my life and he…currently lives across the hallway from me.

I had been prepared to accept the idea that I was simply not going to get to talk to anyone. It wasn't really a problem as I have been doing it most of my life, but when I heard the knock I couldn't say I was unhappy to hear it.

I stood from my bed and opened my door.

"Can I come in for a bit?" He muttered to me, looking at the ground and avoiding my eyes.

"Sure," I had said and let him. He looked around my room for a moment before settling himself on my bed, as it is the only piece of furniture you can sit on in my room. I sat next to him and together we sat at the edge staring at the door I had just closed.

Eventually he hoisted his legs up and to my abrupt amazement he leaned his back against my side and started to talk. Not about what happened, no, he never went near that, but he started talking about the most…random things. The way his car was starting to make this weird squeaking noise and if he should take it in or not. How he needed to go buy more romaine lettuce, how he needed to buy those Denver Nuggets tickets and how he knew a guy that could get me him, Craig, and Token tickets to the playoff games, since the team had been doing that well. He mentioned how every once in awhile he thought of his old dog Sparky and how he was pissed that the dog he loved was stupid enough to run away, but that he would forgive him if he just came home, even now.

Stan talked and talked, and…all I did was listen. I remember every word he said. I had figured that he would come in to talk about Bebe but he didn't. Then I figured he would maybe want my opinion on something, but he didn't want that either. It seemed he just wanted an ear, and now I have a feeling he hasn't had one since Kenny.

I thought that maybe Stan would sleep beside me again, and then I had to hold in a laugh because I _had _only asked him earlier that day if he would be able to sleep in his own bed. But once Stan was done talking he stood up and yawned and said, "Thanks for listening Kyle," and then he left and went back to his own room.

I had looked after him leaving, thinking. Hadn't _I_ been the one who wanted to talk? Yet I still felt like whatever was tugging at me from the night's problems was less of a burden. I'm not sure why, but even if I had remembered someone to call, I don't think I would have called them after listening to Stan, because oddly enough after hearing him talk I was content and fell asleep easily.

When we had pulled up to his and Bebe's apartment earlier that night I lagged behind a little, like I am now, and had let him lead the way. He knocked and I stood on the sidelines watching as the door flew open. There stood Bebe a little more dolled up than usual and beaming. She practically jumped on Stan with kisses and hugs and he laughed the whole time returning the affections, but then she had looked over his shoulders and caught sight of me.

I smiled, gave a slightly awkward wave and for the first time since I've returned to South Park I cringed at Bebe Stevens and the look she gave me.

I knew I shouldn't have been there, and from the look in her eyes she knew that I knew I shouldn't have been there.

'So why are you here?!' Her eyes silently demanded me to answer. Bebe pulled away from Stan and kept staring at me, and he finally caught on to what was going on.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck and glanced over at me gesturing for me to stand next to him. "I know it was going to be me and you tonight Bee, but…I couldn't leave Kyle alone, not after everything."

Bebe eventually tore her eyes from me and they landed on Stan. I saw him wince and was relieved to know I wasn't the only one that was cowering under the gaze of a five foot two blonde woman.

She surprised us both at that moment; she forced away what she was outwardly projecting and turned into the cheerful host I know she did not want to be.

"I'm glad Stan got around to asking you to come," she said, letting Stan and I inside the apartment.

At the sight of the apartment my heart sank and if mine did I could only have imagined Stan's reaction. She had set things up as if it were going to be a romantic dinner for two.

"Bebe," Stan had started but she cut him off.

"Dinner is almost ready guys, you two just…sit in the living room," she had said and without missing a beat she flicked on the lights, blew out the candles and quickly replaced the obvious good china with something she probably got at Targèt, and added a third plate.

I watched as Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled something to himself that I did not quite catch.

"Hm?" I questioned and he shook his head and proceeded to sit himself in the living room, and feeling awkward I did the same. Stan flicked on the television and left it on some adult cartoon show, but I could tell he wasn't watching. His mind was somewhere else, no doubt on Bebe because about five seconds later he stood, muttered he'd be right back and disappeared into the kitchen beyond my view.

I sat there, staring at the images on the television screen, but my ears were turned into what was going on in the kitchen. Bebe and Stan were talking in hushed whispers or, in Bebe's case, hissing. The only thing I really caught was her growling out, "We're not talking about it right now," and a little while later Stan came back and dropped onto the couch.

He didn't say anything to me, and I didn't plan on asking.

Shortly later Bebe called us for dinner. I don't even remember what we ate as my attention hadn't been on the food so much as the small portion. She hadn't made enough for three.

Conversation was short, awkward, and tense. Stan made a few efforts but Bebe's clipped answers stopped him from trying after awhile. I thought maybe to bring up a completely unrelated topic. I brought up the dress I had gotten her for Christmas and asked what the reaction was at her New Years party when she wore it. I never had asked her. She gave me a hard look but even she couldn't keep the small smile from creeping onto her face.

She had said, unsurprisingly, that it had been a hit and everyone had asked where she had gotten it. Bebe had spent New Years with her own friends and her co-workers, probably having a lot more of an elegant party than what Stan and I attended.

After talk of the Goddess dress faded the atmosphere returned to what it had been when we all sat down, with one difference. Bebe seemed weary after that. Things were still tense but she seemed to have dropped the anger and started responding to questions and statements as if she didn't really care about her answers, which she probably didn't.

Stan had been the one to clear up dinner. Bebe had prepared a dessert but she said there wouldn't be much a point in trying to split it three ways as she hadn't made it specifically to be a dessert. When I had asked her what she made she told me while looking at Stan the whole time, "I made chocolate covered strawberries."

With that she stood and headed for the bedroom. She didn't ask, but both Stan and I knew he was supposed to follow her. He gave me a short look before walking after her and they both disappeared into the bedroom.

I settled myself back on the couch and wished that Wendy could have been there with me like she was last time Bebe and Stan got into in argument in their bedroom. We could have sat and talked together and pretended like we weren't hearing anything, but with her not there and me being all my myself I couldn't help but hear parts of the conversation, even with the TV on.

"How could you?!" had been the first thing Bebe said, more of a shout, to Stan once the door closed. I wondered if they knew how thin their walls were…. "After everything we just went through and…. Goddamnit Stan, what were you thinking?! Of all nights, why, why would you think bringing Kyle tonight would be a good idea?!" She asked almost pleadingly, as if begging Stan to give her the best and most believable answer so that she could happily excuse him.

Stan wasn't talking nearly as loud as she was and I didn't hear his response. I hardly did last night, but I always heard Bebe loud and clear, and so I don't know what he had said to her.

But I did hear her answer back. "That's your answer?! Ugh, fuck I just…you didn't even call me ahead of time! Do you know how embarrassing that was to see him and to have to put a stamp on everything I prepared for _us_?"

Stan made some sort of long response, but it was muffled. "You know," Bebe had begun again as a reply, "I'm starting to think you care more about Kyle and his well being more than mine."

There was a long pause there. Stan didn't say anything right away, but when he did whatever he had said made Bebe burst out crying. From there I couldn't understand anything she was saying, but I heard Stan.

"Bebe, Bee, hon stop crying, it's not like that! I'm only trying to make things work with Kyle. We're trying to be friends again."

Bebe mumbled and cried out some sort of a response, the only thing I caught was, "…sometimes I just can't stand it. I can't stand it anymore, it's too hard sometimes."

I wanted to leave then. I wanted to get up and leave. I shouldn't have heard all that. The way she was talking, the way she responded to whatever Stan was saying…. For a little while my heart started to pound on my chest, because toward the end of the conversation I expected Bebe to cry out that she'd had enough and that she never wanted to see Stan ever again. I felt like she was gaining momentum to break things off with them. And that made my heart pound like crazy. I was starting to feel nervous for Stan. I was gripping the couch, I knew I should have left, but there was no way in hell I could get myself to actually leave. No, I had convinced myself that I needed to stay there and hear the rest of the conversation out, just in case I had to go in there and drag Stan home.

In case Bebe did break things off with him and he cracked. As much as they had been fighting as of late, I felt that if Bebe chose that moment to end things that Stan wouldn't make it. Bebe, to me, seemed to be one of the few stable things he had going for him since Kenny. I felt that if things altered in the way they were between them that he might go off the deep end, and I wondered sitting there if I would be…good enough, strong enough, to pull him back up. After all he wanted the nine-year-old Coloradoan Kyle Broflovski, not the Californian, nineteen-year-old Kyle Broflovski.

I started to shake sitting there; I even started to feel a bit sick as my stomach twisted. I had to wait there for a response from one of them, one that would assure me they would get past this.

Where they were at, the reason they were fighting was because of me. All of Bebe's current pain was because of me. I thought then, that maybe I should have gone home. It might have put a damper on Stan and me, but we had lived without each other for eleven years…we could do it again. But I couldn't stand the thought of me being the reason for another person's pain, Bebe's pain.

Then Stan came out and I stood up. He looked grim as he stared at me and I started shaking my head. "I'm sorry," I started saying to him. "I should have gone back home, I can still go back home, I didn't think me staying would cause so many problems with you and Bebe. I'm really sorry Stan."

His grim face fell and his eyebrows started to furrow in confusion, and then anger.

"You're not going fucking anywhere," he hissed to me, and he stepped about an inch away from my face. "I got hell and back, I'm forced to think about things I don't want to think about, I stood up for you and you being here, and if you leave now…." he shook his head. "Just fucking drop it and don't apologize for staying. If you had left…you think I'd be a mess without Bebe? Try me, and see how I would be without you again."

I stepped back, confused and thrown from what he had said.

"Kyle, I'm sorry…but you don't get to leave me, come back and think you can leave again. I don't work like that; you don't _get _to work like that."

I nodded and he pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Come on…let's go home."

"But Bebe…" I had started.

"Leave her, come on," and I watched him leave. I had meant to follow right behind but I couldn't help but glance at their bedroom door. It was slightly ajar and I couldn't help myself from walking over and knocking slightly.

"Bebe?" I called out softly.

She opened the door fully and looked at me.

"Bebe, I'm sorry," I whispered to her. "I knew…I knew I shouldn't have come, I didn't mean to be a burden."

Bebe smiled for me and then, "I wish I could blame you for everything Kyle but…I can't…. Thanks for apologizing, though. It means a lot to me."

I had nodded to her, "Hey maybe we should go out sometime, just us, we can hark on Stan. He used to be really spiteful toward me before I decided to stay."

She laughed and I watched a few tears fall down her cheeks, "…maybe, that might be nice."

"Yeah," I nodded and reached out to wipe a few of her tears away. She sighed at my touch before stepping back away from it.

"I like you being here Kyle, I do, honestly I just…" she trailed off and averted her eyes.

"I understand Bebe, I do."

"Sometimes I wonder if Stan and I are going to make it," she whispered.

At that moment I felt an anger rising in me, at Stan, for making her feel like that. "You guys will," I said firmly. "Me being here isn't going to change you guys, and what you have. You two have been together for years; I've only been back a few months. There's no way I could undo everything you both have been through together."

"Hmm," she murmured out. "Sometimes I – …anyway, I think I want to be alone and….Stan is probably waiting for you. Goodnight, and thanks Kyle."

I left then and found Stan waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. There's no way he didn't know I was talking to Bebe, but he didn't ask and I didn't tell.

"Do you want to stop for a bit?"

Stan's sudden question jolts me back to the present. I look over at him, "No, it's okay."

"Are you sure?" he questions me. "You're breathing pretty hard and you look like you might pass out."

Really? I take a better note of my current condition. Yes I am breathing harder than usual and I am a bit more aware of my leg muscles, but my lungs don't burn so I think I'm alright. I'm not sure why my body is acting this way. I guess not doing any real physical activity for two months is catching up to me.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Hm," Stan looks over my face carefully, which makes me a bit nervous. It looks as if he's looking for something in particular; probably to be sure I'm not lying. "What's on your mind? You seem to be more lost in thought than I am."

"Oh…" we make a sharp turn going slightly uphill before I answer him. "I was thinking about yesterday."

He nods as if he already knew I was going to say that. "I figured as much…what did you hear exactly when Bebe and I were in her room?"

"Practically everything she said, not much of what you said…"

"Did you hear her ask me whose well being I was looking out for the most?"

"Yeah," I say to him. "I heard that."

Stan snorts in disgust, but it's half muffled by his deep breathing. We're both breathing a little bit harder, me especially, and the fact that we're starting to talk probably isn't helping either of us.

"As if it's some fucking contest you know? Everything is always a contest with her. Whose well being I'm looking out for more, who I'm spending more time with. I don't see it like that."

He doesn't have to tell me that. I've noticed it. Stan sees it as who he thinks needs his attention more at the time. It's never meant he cares less about someone, I think he just figured Bebe would understand more because he's marrying her. And I think to him that's the ultimate proof, that no matter what he's feeling or who it seems he has more concern over at a given time he will always care for his fiancée.

"I'm starting to see that," I tell him.

He scoffs, "Even you do, why can't my own fiancée?"

"Okay," I say suddenly. "I do have to stop for a bit," I tell him breathlessly and he slows down to a halt watching as I lean against a building to catch my breath. "Bebe," I begin talking again, "Bebe I don't think is the most confident person. I think she's just one of those people that need constant reassurance from the person that loves them most."

"I shouldn't have to give that to her, though. She knows I love her. I asked her to marry me; does she think that I did that as a prank?"

"Well Christ, Stan! The way I've been told how-" I pause, and reflect on what I was just about to say. I was going to tell him that with the way I've been told about how much he and Kenny spent every waking moment together that is it so much of a surprise for him that Bebe is a little on the weary side?

I stop myself though because I don't want to mention Kenny. Stan hasn't brought him up in awhile, and I think that it's for the best.

"How, what?" He prods me to finish but I shake it off.

"Never mind…"

He makes a groan and slides down the building I'm leaning against to sit on the cement ground. "I don't need this. Mr. Zanadaci, my boss, told me recently that there's going to be meetings over the possibility of him opening a second restaurant in Denver soon. It's not set in stone or anything but he says I'll have to be present for all of them as I'm head chef, _and _that he wants me to make new recipes to present to a few of the prospective investors! Not to mention school is biting my ass from taking that week off…the last thing I need is problems with Bebe."

"…things'll get better with her," I say to him, joining Stan on the cement ground. "And I'm sure you'll do fine with your boss. He wouldn't have made you head chef if he didn't think you were capable, and as far as school goes I can help out if you want me too. I've seen your textbooks, and you're taking classes I took last semester."

"I might take you up on my classes," he responds softly. "And you're right about Mr. Zanadaci...and Bebe too I guess." He smiles over at me and suddenly starts to snicker.

"What?" I ask confused.

"I just…" He covers his mouth with his hand as he keeps snickering to himself, almost snorting a few times.

"What?" I ask again pressing the matter.

"I just can't believe that you actually wore those clips. Dude, they have flowers on them. I mean I know you're from California and all, but-"

I cut him off by shoving Stan to the side, causing him to fall over before I stand and brush my pants off. I then immediately proceed to yank the clips out of my hair and chuck them at him.

"Ah, Kyle I was kidding, it was just a joke," he says grinning as he scoops up the pins and sticks them in his pockets.

"Not laughing, jackass."

"Sorry, sorry," he says and holds out a hand. I eye him critically but sigh and lean over to pull him up. "But I have to admit," he goes on. "You did look _adorable._" I drop Stan and he falls back against the building starting to laugh. "You called me adorable first!" he yells out as I turn and start walking back to the apartment. "I don't know why you're stalking off," he continues to call out as I keep walking. "I know you don't know the way home from here."

I stop in my tracks and squeeze my fists together. Stan's right. I don't know the way home from here, I don't even know if we're still in South Park, since nothing looks familiar.

Stan eventually catches up, but even though he's right next to me I pretend like he's not there.

"It's nice to be able to joke around with each other again isn't it?" he questions, glancing over at me smiling.

I shake my head, unable to keep my own grin from stretching on my mouth. "Yeah, it is."

**-FG**

**AN: **I know; updates are very slow right now. They might continue like this for awhile, they might not. I've just thought of a few things concerning the story and I'm figuring out how I can make it all work. Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keep up those inspirational words, they keep me going!

NEWS:  
**Syntic** has updated MORE pages of the doujinshi! You get to see Bebe so go look!  
**Halliex **has done a gorgeous fanart for me of Kyle and Stan cooking together in their kitchen! As usual links are ALL in my bio! Thank you ladies:D


	28. Kyle and Stan III

**AN: **I have finally been struck with a bit of inspiration, and I fell back in love with my own story. I knew it would happen eventually…so, here is chapter 28.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

"Hmm, maybe…chicken coconut curry…" I hear Stan mutter to himself at the dining table.

By the time we got home from our jog we realized we had been out way longer than an hour, so Stan decided to skip his first few classes. I had tried to point out to him that skipping more classes wasn't going to make things easier, but he only shrugged it off.

After he had made us breakfast and once we started eating at the table, he had pulled out a folder and starting scratching something onto it, muttering to himself about food the way he is now.

"Chicken coconut curry?" I repeat to him, unable to hide the disgust in my voice. As far as I knew curry and coconut should not mix. "What are you doing?"

He mumbles something before looking up at me. "Trying to work out a new dinner menu for Mr. Zanadaci…I'm stuck on soups…." He looks back down at his paper and continues to mutter to himself and write things on the paper next to him, only to cross them out a moment later.

"What ever happened to the classics, like chicken noodle?"

"They're not wanted at a five star restaurant; people tend to want to eat things they can't buy in a can."

"I like canned chicken noodle."

"Someday," he says, looking up again, "I'll make it from scratch—real scratch, not the pretend bullshit—and then I'll ask you again how you feel about canned chicken noodle."

I really can't argue with that, though I'm not sure what he means by the pretend bullshit, "I didn't know you worked at a five star."

"Oh yeah…I guess you've never been there."

I shake my head. "I don't even know where it is, just that it's outside of South Park."

"Are you working today?" he asks me suddenly.

"Yeah, but only for a few hours, Chef thinks Craig needs some time waiting alone to force him to get the hang of things faster."

Stan nods absentmindedly. "Then you should come by tonight for dinner. I mean, you won't be able to actually sit on the main floor or anything, the place is reservations only, but you can probably eat in the back. Then you can see where I work and try out the food."

I raise an eyebrow. "Your boss will allow that?"

"Probably not, but it's worth asking."

I snort a laugh. "If he says it's okay, sure…but what about Bebe? Aren't you going to spend dinner with her?"

"No."

I wait for him to expand, but he only goes back to writing down his menu choices. As he continues to do so he occasionally asks me what I think of things, and occasionally I'll get a little small talk out of him. After a while though, when the breakfast dishes have been cleared and I've gotten ready to go to work I stare at Stan wonderingly.

"Don't you have to get to your last few classes?"

As if a light clicks on in his head, he gasps and jumps from his chair. I watch in slight amusement as he runs around the room, getting his bag, stuffing it with his school stuff, forgetting something, and then running back in his room to get it.

"I'll call you if Zanadaci okay's you coming over, and I'll give you directions," he says to me as half his body is out the front door.

"You don't need those papers you were writing on?" I respond back, gesturing my head to the folder he's left on the dining table.

"Oh, shit, thanks," he rushes back to grab them before giving me an appreciative smile and taking off.

I linger around the apartment for a little while, looking over everything thoughtlessly before I decide to leave and head for work myself. As I am about to open the door to leave, someone knocks from the other side.

"Bebe," I state looking at her once I've opened the door. "Don't you have class?"

She doesn't look that great, and I'm a little curious at what she's doing here.

"I decided not to go today. Don't really feel up to it…." She mutters the last bit before shaking her head and refocusing on me, looking down.

"Stan isn't here," I tell her.

"I know. I didn't think he would since it's the middle of the day…. I didn't think you'd be here either."

"If…" I start, already confused. "…If you didn't think Stan or I would be here…why did you come?"

"I'm not entirely sure…."

I see. "Bebe," I ask her, "do you want to come to Cherry Kiss with me? I'm only working three hours, and afterward we can rip on Stan, just like I promised." I give her a smile and she beams at me nodding. "Cool, I'll drive."

We head to my car after I have locked up and together we enter Cherry Kiss, almost immediately getting an array of odd looks. I raise my eyebrows at my customers and they go back to their meals.

"Thank fucking God you're h—Bebe?" Craig stops in front of us. He looks back and forth between me and Bebe, with his eyes eventually stopping on me.

"Bebe take a seat at a table," I ramble as I shuffle her into a seat, ignoring Craig and a few other eyes for a moment. "Are you thirsty, how about something warm?" I'm not sure if she nods in agreement or not because I turn away and head toward the kitchen, pushing Craig ahead of me.

"Dude, Stan's soon to be wife?" he hisses at me.

I stare at him, annoyed. "What are you talking about? I'm just treating Bebe, she and Stan…." I trail off. Maybe it's not my place to be telling people, Craig especially, that Stan and Bebe are having a few problems. "I'm just treating her since she isn't feeling well, and Stan's at school, so don't look at me like I'm some sort of bastard. I can take a friends fiancée out to brunch can't I?"

He doesn't look as if it's the best idea, but he sighs and shrugs. "Whatever, anyway, oh!" He starts to go off on a list of things he's managed to mess up in the two hours the restaurant has been opened. I cast a glance at Chef, but he just shakes his head. Clearly he wants me to deal with Craig.

First I get Bebe a hot chocolate, which she thanks me for, before going through Craig's mistakes and helping him to fix them without direct involvement. I've never been happier to have a three hour shift before. As I clock out and turn in my apron, I give Chef a pat on a back and mutter a Godspeed.

Craig, maybe not so surprisingly, isn't the most…patient of people. His main problem is forgetting that he's the waiter, which means it's his job to make the customer, the _paying _customer feel as comfortable as possible. More than once I've had to yank him in the back room before he started to verbally attack a few people. Other than that, he's not half bad.

I approach Bebe and practically faint into the chair across from her. She smiles at me amused as she glances at Craig going back and forth between a few tables. He's rolling his eyes and squeezing his fists together. I advised him to do that to control his anger, well not the rolling his eyes part. It's actually sort of odd seeing him like this. The past few times he's been pretty damn cheerful, or drunk, mostly a happy person, but I had forgotten that the old Craig, the nine year old Craig, had little tolerance and patience for people. I guess that hasn't been entirely drilled out of him. He's not flipping anyone off…I don't think, but he's certainly wanted to trip a few people.

"Craig's going to be an interesting waiter," Bebe muses and I nod my head in weary agreement.

"If Chef doesn't fire him first."

"Do you really think he wou –"

"Hello darling!" Bebe is interrupted by Lexus' higher voice.

"Hi girls," I smile easily and watched interested as they don't seem to see Bebe and squeeze into the small table by dragging over nearby chairs. Porscha is quick to take a chair on my left, as Lexus sets herself tightly beside me on the right. Mercedes takes one between them, across from me. I almost laugh over their actions, as there is barely any room to breathe. Bebe is no longer sitting around the table, she's been shoved to the side, and if her appalled look is anything to go by she's not pleased with what has just happened.

"You three know Bebe right?" I speak up to the girls nodding my head in her direction.

The girls look over at Bebe, and I snort slightly as they seem genuinely intrigued by her appearance. As if they honestly didn't notice her.

Lexus is the first to say something. "Oh we know her…how's life at size six Bebe?"

I almost choke on my air at Lexus' question and watch as Bebe's face reddens.

"I heard you bought a wedding dress that's a size two? Aren't you aiming at the impossible? My mummy always said to aim realistically," Porscha pipes up.

"Sorry that we can't all be bulimic air-headed skanks like you three," she snaps back.

Okay…

"Lex, Porsch," I step in. "Bebe come on, girls apologize you know that wasn't at all called for. I'm friends with all of you, you know."

"What?" Lexus questions as if she doesn't believe me.

"Just because you're friends with Stan doesn't mean you have to be friends with his fiancée sweetie," Mercedes says calmly as she studies my hand, picking it up as she does so from across the table.

"No, Bebe _is_ a friend, I like her," I frown and yank my hand from Mercedes.

"Apologize," I say again folding my arms, already starting to stand.

The three of them exchange looks and I glance at Bebe who is looking off miffed. Are they really not going to apologize to each other?

Mercedes makes a noise of annoyance. "Sorry, Bebe…"

"Yeah, sorry," Lexus mutters.

"Me too," Porscha mutters wonderingly. I can tell she's not entirely sure what she's apologizing for.

"I'm sorry also…for calling you bulimic air headed skanks," Bebe says back, not looking in their direction.

I study the girls and wonder at the animosity between them but decide now is not the time to bring it up. I instead try to change the topic as I lower myself back down onto my seat.

"How did you three know I was working today?" I question suddenly. It doesn't seem like they plan on ordering anything; since when they do they tend to order right as they sit down? "In fact, how do you always manage to come across me every shift?"

"We ask Chef for your schedule," Mercedes responds matter-of-factly. "Honey I really need to show you the moisturizer I use. Your hands are so rough."

I give her a look before yanking my hand away again. "You ask Chef for my schedule and he gives it to you?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Porscha asks.

I'm about to respond before I shut my mouth. Sometimes I wish they'd be a little more…reserved at times with what they say and do. "Right, well I only had a short shift today and now Bebe and I should get going…."

They glance over at her, as if they had already forgotten her existence, which I'm pretty sure they did. When they look back at me each one of them is frowning in disapproval.

"Why does she get to spend time with you?" Lexus asks annoyed.

"Because I don't see her everyday like I see all of you! And actually, we really were just heading out when you all stepped in."

"That's right, we were leaving," Bebe pipes up standing and pushing away from her chair as she gathers herself.

"So soon?" Porscha questions, sounding a little disappointed.

"It's not as if I won't see you all tomorrow," I tell her smiling. She sighs but nods at me. "Bye girls," I say standing and walking beside Bebe. "Later Craig, Chef," I call over my shoulder. Chef peeks out from the kitchen to wave and Craig gives me a nod before turning back to a customer.

I open the door for Bebe and let her out first, hearing the girls' last comments.

"Just who does Bebe Stevens think she is?" Is what I hear Lexus question before I step outside with Bebe.

"You're actually friends with them?" Bebe asks me first thing once we've fallen into step with each other on the sidewalk.

I nod and stuff my hands into my pocket. "Yeah. Obviously you all don't exactly get along."

"Yeah, not quite," Bebe scoffs.

"Can I ask why?"

"There isn't any real reason…we just, never got along. They were with one clique of girls all through school and I was in another…ugh, how can you stand them?"

I laugh. "Ignoring how they treated you, they are sweet. They were the first customers to open up to me, and they even got me a Christmas present."

Regardless of how I hardly ever wear it.

"They like you."

"Not in the way you're thinking. I think…" I pause for a second. "I think they see me more as a cute toy, something to moon over."

"And that doesn't bother you?" she asks me in disbelief.

"They don't _just _see me as a toy…they see me as me too," I ponder what I've said for a moment. They do treat me a little…unusually, and I haven't ever really stopped to think why. But rather than focus on it too much I shrug it off and change the subject. "So what do you want to do?" I ask her.

"Oh," Bebe looks around for a moment before smiling softly. "Want to go shopping?"

"Here?"

"In Denver, it's not too far away but…it could be fun right?"

I grin and nod. "Yeah, I still want to get a heavier jacket anyway." I'm not really in the mood to shop, oddly enough, but I had told Bebe we could spend a bit of time together, and if it'll make her feel better and allow her to forget her problems with Stan, before we actually talk about it, then I'm more than willing. I feel like I owe it to her, since I helped create her current problems.

On the drive to Denver we make small comfortable talk. I talk more about California and the details I haven't really mentioned to anyone, and I ask Bebe more about the past eleven years here in South Park.

Though I liked Bebe right away when I met her again, I never realized how much we have in common. Before now we've never really spent any long moments of time together alone, and now that we are I feel like I've been missing out on a really good would-be close friend. Conversation flows so easily and we make each other laugh like its second nature. And on the drive toward Denver Stan never even gets brought up.

When we break from shopping at a little café, both of us with more bags than originally planned, I still don't have the jacket I had meant to buy, Bebe heads to the bathroom while I rest in a small booth.

After a minute or two a waitress comes over with a wide smile on her face. "What can I get you?"

I rattle off my favorite coffee drink, having to repeat a few things as I seem to have confused her.

"And for your fiancée?" she asks.

"Oh, hmm…." Bebe hadn't said what she wanted but based on our common interests I make a gamble and order her the same thing. She might not have ever heard of it, but I'll bet she'll love it as much as I do. "She'll have the same thing," I tell the waitress nodding.

She nods and starts to leave when what she said clicks in my mind, "and she's not my fiancée!" Shit, how did I almost let something like that slide past me?!

"Oh," she frowns. "You two look it; she's wearing an engagement ring isn't she?"

"Yeah, but no," I shake my head sheepishly and a little appalled; "she's my friends fiancée actually."

Fucking hell. The second that comes out of my mouth and I see the waitress's dismayed look I realize how it sounds, and why Craig gave me such a look earlier.

"She and I are completely platonic," I rush to inform her but she doesn't say anything, except to nod and walk off.

I slump in the seat and watch as Bebe returns happily sitting across from me.

"I ordered for the both of us. I hope you don't mind," I tell her sullenly.

"No that's fine; I trust you…. Is something wrong Kyle?"

"Our waitress thinks we're engaged, and since I corrected her I think she thinks I'm a bastard, and you're an adulteress."

Bebe throws back her head slightly and starts to laugh. "Is that what's upsetting you?"

"Well, I mean…" I start and end up laughing instead.

"Who cares what other people think we're doing? We know we're not doing a damn thing wrong…Stan wouldn't care anyway, I think," Bebe says softly as our laughter subsides.

"You're probably right…speaking of Stan…"

Bebe interrupts me by shaking her head. "You know Kyle, I'm having a really good day with you, let's not…I don't want to talk about Stan right now. I know that was the main purpose of today but do you mind if I opt out?"

I shake my head and we go back to talking of neutral topics, only stopping momentarily when the waitress brings out drinks. Bebe beams at the taste and starts to question me on what's in it. We eventually finish and head back onto the shopping streets of downtown Denver. When the sun starts to go down and the temperature drops Bebe and I call it a successful day and hop back in my car to head back to South Park.

It's only when we've stopped on the way for a fast food dinner that I remember where I was supposed to be for dinner. When we pull off the highway for gas I pull out my cell phone. It's been on vibrate this whole time, but I never felt it. I've missed two calls, both from Stan.

Shit. I had said I'd have dinner at the place he works at. Not wanting to check the voicemails, I flip my phone shut.

As we roll back into my apartment complex, I help Bebe stuff her shopping bags in the car and note that Stan's car is parked where he usually parks it. So he's home. I cringe slightly but make no note of it. "Did you want to come up?" I ask Bebe.

She glances at Stan's car before shaking her head. "No thanks. Thanks for hanging out with me today Kyle, I had a lot of fun."

I smile at her warmly. "Me too," I reply honestly. "We should do it more often,"

She nods in full agreement and watch her leave before I grab my own bags and head up the apartment stairs. I stand outside the door for a second looking at it. I quickly chide myself for being nervous; I have no reason to be nervous. So I forgot, so what? I'll just apologize and we'll be fine.

Nevertheless I take in a huge deep breath before opening the door and walking in. Stan and Mr. Zanadaci look up from where they had been talking on the couch to glance over at me. I shut the door and drop my bags to the side somewhat confused.

"Mr. Zanadaci," I state the obvious.

He smiles at me. "Kyle, I'm glad I caught you."

I nod distractedly before I glance over at Stan's face. He's giving me a soft smile. He doesn't look mad at all, or even the slightest bit annoyed. At the sight of it I drop in the lounge chair near him letting out a relieved slightly nervous chuckle.

He isn't mad. I can't believe how nervous I was at the idea that he would be. I don't think I could have dealt with him being mad at me again.

I know Stan and Mr. Zanadaci are giving me strange looks at the sound of my slightly unnatural laughter, but I could care less. I'm just too relieved he isn't pissed off.

**Stan **

"Dude…Kyle…are you okay?" I say after a moment as Mr. Zanadaci and I continue to watch Kyle laugh in the oddest way. "Kyle," I say again softly and rest a hand on his shoulder. He jumps at the contact but looks at me nodding.

"I'm fine, yeah. I'm good," he turns to Mr. Zanadaci. "How long have you been here?"

Mr. Zanadaci takes a second to answer looking over Kyle, scrutinizing his behavior. "Not long at all, only ten minutes or so."

"It hasn't been two weeks yet has it?" He asks looking back and forth at the two of us.

Mr. Zanadaci shakes his head, smiling. "No it hasn't, but it doesn't have to be every two weeks exactly. I was in my office going through your bills and such when I thought of you two. I haven't exactly had enough time to inquire with Stan as to how things are going as of yet."

"Oh," Kyle pauses. "Do you want me to go for a walk again?"

"I don't think that will be necessary this time around, do you?"

Kyle looks over at me, reddens, and turns back to Zanadaci shaking his head.

"Wonderful, well boys, how have things been this few days?"

"Good," we both say. I glance over at Kyle grinning but he keeps his eyes ahead on the lawyer.

"No more arguments?"

"Not really," I say shrugging as I continue to eye Kyle. His behavior…is strange and I'm wondering why…

"Not really?" Mr. Zanadaci repeats, emphasizing the words, causing me to look at him.

"We haven't had an argument as of late, if anything they've just been little…like, playful arguments. Like the ones you have with friends, you know?" I explain my answer.

"Is that so Kyle?" He asks turning his attention to Kyle who nods silently. "Then that's absolutely wonderful. I really have no further questions then. Stan if you could get my coat?" He asks starting to stand.

"Sure thing," I tell him and walk toward the closet to grab it. While opening the closet I hear Mr. Zanadaci ask quietly to Kyle if he's truly all right. Kyle doesn't respond so I assume he only nodded again.

Closing the closet door I walk back to the lawyer and hand him his long black trench.

"Thank you Stan," he smiles at me. "I will see you boys in a bit then," he says before leaving. The moment the door is closed I round on Kyle.

"Dude what is up with you, are you okay?" is the first thing I ask him.

"Yeah I'm fine," he automatically responds. I watch him attempt to run a hand through his hair out of habit. "I'm just…I'm relieved is all."

"Relieved about what?" I ask confused.

Kyle suddenly turns his head to meet my eyes. "Sorry about tonight. I forgot about dinner and my phone was on vibrate."

"Oh." I lean back onto the couch. "Don't worry about it. I mean, Zanadaci wasn't having it anyway, and I only called to tell you not to bother coming. I called the second time in an attempt to make sure you didn't show up, but you didn't answer."

"Sorry…I was-"

"Hanging out with Bebe," I finish for him.

"How'd you know?"

I laugh lightly. "Her car was here, she wasn't and your car was gone and you weren't, so it didn't take me long to put two and two together." I glance over at Kyle's shopping bags and raise my eyebrow at the amount. "You two have fun?"

At that Kyle finally smiles. "Yeah, we did, and I even got you something."

"You did?" I respond surprised, watching as Kyle walks over to his bags, rummaging for something.

"Yeah, well I guess it's more correct to say I got us something," he says, his back to me. When he turns around he's holding out a large box, and hands it to me with both hands. It's unwrapped of course so I glance at the box, tilting my head to the side at the picture.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's a pizza rotator," he answers me, his eyes shining slightly as he looks at the contraption. "Instead of those cliché pizza ovens, this one rotates the pizza while it's cooked from the top and the bottom, creating a more fresh tasting pie."

I stare at Kyle disbelieving. I wonder how much this thing cost him because as far as practicality goes, this thing isn't. We have no need for one, I've never even made him homemade pizza before…but I guess there's no time like the present to start.

Smiling at him while shaking my head I accept the pizza rotator and head for the kitchen. "Who sold you that line anyway?"

"What line?" I hear him ask and watch as he eventually appears in the kitchen.

"The one about it creating a more fresh tasting pie?"

Kyle laughs. "The saleswoman. She wasn't very convincing but she was obviously new and I felt bad for her."

"So you dished out how much for this thing?" I question as I take it out of the box and start to clean it.

"Barely anything," he says vaguely.

"Kyle," I growl out slightly. "Don't waste your savings on stuff we don't need."

"But we _do_ need it," he responds mockingly but still grinning. "It's going to make us a more fresh tasting pizza pie," he pauses, "and I promise I didn't drop more than twenty bucks for it."

"Twenty dollars?" I say disbelieving. With all the metal and machinery involved in this it must be worth at least seventy.

"Yeah, flirted my way out of the rest of it. Bebe said I'm a natural and I can't disagree with that," he grins at me. "So, you don't plan on using it now do you?"

"Why not?" I ask glancing at the directions before tossing them in the garbage. "We can see if it was worth your twenty. We'll make one cheese pizza on this thing, and then one in the conventional oven."

"But it's already nine."

"What's your point?" I ask starting to dig through the fridge for some cheese. When I had asked Kyle two months ago if he had bought an entire grocery store I wasn't kidding. We have everything, including everything necessary to make a fairly good pizza from scratch.

"I guess I don't have one," he grins. "What can I do?" He asks looking around, watching me as I set the cheese on the counter and open a cupboard to start searching for tomato sauce and flour.

"You," I start pulling out a can of sauce that was hidden in a far corner, "can open the can of tomato sauce," I say handing it to him.

Kyle frowns. "That's it?"

"If you do a good job with that maybe I'll let you shred the cheese," I smirk and hand him the can opener, almost laughing as he yanks it from my hand and sets to work.

I quickly put together dough and begin to knead it out before it needs to be tossed. Once I start to spin it in the air I notice Kyle eyeing me curiously. Stopping after it's gotten to a fairly decent size I hold it out to Kyle. "Wanna to try?" I ask.

He looks unsure, but he nods and takes it from me waiting for my direction. "Okay," I say. "Don't go crazy with it; just give it a light toss in the air, spinning your hand slightly as you twist your wrist." He stares at my blankly. "Think basketball." I add and he nods understandingly.

Wiping my hands on my jeans I watch Kyle get a good feel for the dough and the size of it. The second he releases it from his hand I wince and watch it spin off to the side and knock over the can of sauce. The dough lands on the floor with a majority of the sauce, which has also landed on cupboards, the oven, and on us.

"You know, I envisioned this happening," Kyle speaks up as he looks over the mess.

"I think I did too," I respond lightly.

Together we clean up the sauce, throw away the dough, and start over again. Never mind the mess our clothes are in. This time I give Kyle a little bit more instruction on tossing the pizza. He gets a hang of it, but when it gets to be too big he passes it off to me, and I finish the job. Setting it on a circular pan, I start to mix the new can of tomato paste; we only had one can of sauce, with a few herbs and spices. I allow Kyle to shred the cheese and watch him do so as I spread the red mixture over the dough.

"How can anyone shred cheese wrong," I mutter, and I bite my lip when I realize I said that out loud.

Kyle stops mid-shred to glare at me. "What's the right way?"

"With a cheese grater, that's why someone invented it," I say and fumble through an appliance drawer, pulling one out. "The way you're doing it only ensures we'll have random chunks of cheese everywhere and not at all in some places." I hand him the grater and he eyes it before putting it to use…the wrong way.

I have to hold in the impatient sigh. He's grating too slowly. "Dude," I say and walk to the side of him, grabbing a hold of the hand that's grating the cheese. "Speed up."

He glances at me oddly before scowling. "What difference does it make what speed I go at?"

"It makes a big one. You want quick even strokes; you're doing slow uneven strokes."

"It'll taste the same."

"But it won't look the same. For presentation sake do it more like this." I take his hand and clutching it with my own I guide him to do quicker more even strokes. "Kyle?" I say after a silent moment.

"Hm?" He mutters back.

"You're not moving your hand anymore."

"Hm, oh!" He drops the cheese and I release his hand. "I think I got the hang of it now, thanks," he says without looking at me.

Studying him for a second—or at least trying to since he's avoiding my gaze—I shrug and start making the dough and sauce for the second pizza.

When the preparations are done, Kyle sticks one in the oven and I figure out how the pizza rotator works and set the other pie on that, watching it spin for a second or two before turning away and helping Kyle with clean up. Once we're done we settle on the dining chairs with cans of root beer.

"Who asked who out?" I ask suddenly.

"Huh?" he responds from whatever had been distracting him since earlier.

"Did you call Bebe over or did she ask to come over?"

"Oh…she showed up here."

"Looking for me?" I wonder as I take a long sip.

"No, not looking for either of us apparently."

"…and what does that mean?"

He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his drink, sliding it back and forth between his hands. "Have you two talked since yesterday?" He asks me.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"…I haven't finished thinking things through…did you hear _everything _she said to me?"

"Uh, uh, towards the end of the conversation she was talking too low…crying a bit too much, for me to hear, and I didn't want to strain to listen…"

I nod my head at him, not at all bothered that he didn't seem to attempt to block out our conversation. I know Bebe was rather loud when she was talking to me. And while she was talking in the heat of passion, I was not. I was still aware that Kyle was outside in the living room, no doubt listening.

"That's good," I answer half heartedly. "The last thing she asked me was if she, hypothetically, gave me an ultimatum between her and Kenny, and I could only have one, who would I pick," I pause and study my pop can. "I was about to answer her before she cut me off shaking her head. She said she didn't _want _me to answer right away. She wanted me to take as much time as I needed to think about it and asked that when I was ready, to give her a call. Until I'm prepared to supply her with one she doesn't want to talk about it."

"But Kenny's de-"

"It's only hypothetical," I cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

"…you said you were going to answer her before she stopped you. Who were you going to pick?" Kyle asks quietly eyeing me carefully.

I flick the pop tab gently before meeting his eyes, "Kenny." I tell him simply.

Kyle winces. "Really?"

"Yeah. I didn't even take a second to think about it. I'm glad she stopped me."

"Stan is that a good sign? That you were going to pick him over your fiancée without even having to think about it?"

"No, but…I do love her. I don't think of her any less than I did…five years ago…and I've always been a firm believer that the person you marry should be your best friend."

Even in the awe that Kyle and I are having this serious conversation his lips twitch and I see the hints of a smile.

"You wanted to marry Kenny?" he asks.

"He posed it to me once," I respond thoughtfully thinking back on it. "It was when I told him I was going to be marrying Bebe. He asked me why I didn't marry him instead. I don't think he was serious," I add when I see Kyle's intrigued face. "We were arguing over why I was choosing to marry Bebe. But anyways, even though I brushed him off completely, it sorta stuck with me. I mean, here I am, this guy that believes its only right to marry your best friend… who could suit you more you know? But I couldn't stop thinking about it, I never told him I couldn't stop thinking about it, but it made perfect sense to me, that he would ask that, joking or not."

"…except would you really want to marry Kenny?"

"Well no," I smirk at him. "Of course not, it just made sense to, if there was a romantic spark between us…which there wasn't," I add last minute.

"Now that you've thought about it more…are you still more inclined to pick Kenny over Bebe?"

"As of now…yeah, and I wonder…if I'll change my mind…I need to don't you think Kyle? If I want things to blow over with Bebe I'll have to change my mind right?" He nods and I sigh leaning back in my chair. "Guess I'll have to then."

"But, if you do that, with the way you feel now, you'll only be lying to her and yourself, and that isn't fair to either of you, especially Bebe," he replies somewhat frustrated. "Why are you marrying this girl Stan? I don't get it."

"We've been through everything together, thick and thin, and I only love her all the more for sticking around with me for so long."

"Don't make it sound like an obligation!" He snorts in disgust. "You're acting like this is her reward. Since she's been around the longest she gets to marry you."

"…obligation?" I mutter to myself quietly, before shaking my head after a moment. "It…isn't like that. It's not an obligation. I love her."

"You can love a pet dog and if you treat it right it'll follow you to the end of time, but it doesn't mean you should marry it."

I blink at Kyle, staring at him silently. After a long moment he flushes and looks down, "I didn't mean to say it like that," he mutters.

"Yeah, you did," I correct him.

The ding of the timer interrupts our quiet conversation and I stand to take the pizza out of the oven and to stop the rotator. Setting both on cooling racks, I wait in the kitchen silently for ten minutes before I cut them. Cutting two slices for me, one of each, I set them on a plate and cut another two for Kyle. Placing the plate in front of him, I take my seat back across from where he is and we both take tentative bites of each slice.

"Looks like it was twenty dollars well spent," he mutters, and I nod in agreement.

-

Kyle and I ended up leaving the conversation at that, and two weeks later I finally approached Bebe. Not with an answer, but more of an apology. She hadn't asked me for my hypothetical decision; in fact, she ended up apologizing for even asking such a question, saying she didn't need my answer.

Which was good because I wasn't at all prepared at what to say to her. So now everything is back to normal, with a few changes. Bebe and I have dinner every night again, but every few days Kyle comes along. I've finally caught up in school from where I fell behind a couple weeks ago, and work…well actually work is constantly stressful, but I'm getting used to the stress.

The only thing that's…different about the current situation is Kyle and Bebe. Recently when I get off work I come home and I see them talking and laughing together in the living room. I hadn't realized that they were becoming a lot closer than I thought they would.

"Okay, I'm off!" I say to Kyle as I gather my things to head to work now. "Directions are on the counter as usual. Remember I won't be back for dinner, I have a few meetings with Zanadaci."

He nods silently and rubs his shoulders nonexistent itch, watching me.

"It's a…baked salmon salad…" I tilt my head to the side looking at him curiously, "with homemade lemon vinaigrette…it's got small cranberries and pine nuts sprinkled on the salmon…" I pause at the door looking over Kyle carefully. "Are you going to be all right making it yourself?"

"Yeah, I just…"

Something in my head clicks as if I realize why he's a little hesitant to ask what's on his mind "Don't worry you don't have to do anything, just add the dressing."

He scowls at me. "That's _not_ it. I was wondering about something."

I adjust the bag that's over my shoulder. "Well what is it? I'm in a hurry."

"Can I invite Bebe over? I mean, do you mind? I realize I've never bothered to ask if it was cool with you that we're spending so much time together…."

I don't say anything for a moment. "Dude, you don't have to ask if you want to hang out with Bebe…if you want to invite her over that's fine, I don't mind. In fact…it's a really good idea; we both know she'd love to come over."

He smiles at me, "great, then I'll do that. You should get going right?"

"…yeah. See you," I say and start to leave.

He gives me a distracted wave and I watch as he flips out his phone. I notice he's no longer dialing Bebe's number, he's holding down a number. I close the front door, leaving but I leave my hand on the handle, listening to his side of the conversation.

"Hey Bee!" I hear him state happily into the phone. "I just got done talking with Stan and I told you he would be okay with us hanging out, he even said it was okay for you to come over tonight while he's at meetings for work…" he pauses in his conversation before he suddenly laughs.

At that I release the handle and make my way down the stairs toward my car. Bee? Since when has Kyle been calling _my _fiancée by the nickname _I _gave her? Since when has she been on _his _speed dial?

"They're not doing anything together," I mutter to myself as I unlock the car door. "I've been at work a lot more with the impending meetings with private investors. They're both just lonely and want to spend time together since I'm not around," I say out loud as I start my engine and begin backing the car up, before shifting into drive and heading out of the complex. "They've just become really, really close friends. Who cares that I don't get their inside jokes with each other. That doesn't matter, I have inside jokes with Bebe…maybe not with Kyle, but…but I'll get there." I clutch my wheel at a stop sign before making a left toward the main road leading out of South Park. "Kyle and Bebe are not closer than me and Kyle." I stop myself from biting my lip off.

I flick on the radio, only to instantly flick it off when I hear, _Stop Pretending_, by one of Kenny's old favorite groups.

"Damn," I say quietly, hitting my steering wheel with a fist.

**-FG**

News:  
**Halliexi **has done yet another wonderful piece of fanart for me! It's of Kyle chucking the black pins with the white flowers at Stan from last chapter! Link in my bio!

**_AND!_**  
Guess what?! There has been some serious talking, thinking, and writing of a new South Park story…COWRITTEN with the talented Indiana Beach Bum. But yes, we have talked, and we have come up with a very…interesting plot, and damn did it take some brainwork to think of it. Its not something either of have written before. Hehehe, that's coming soon. And no, I don't think it'll take away from SSwTE's. So never fear. Look out for it, it will be posted under my penname!


	29. Stan and Kyle VIII

**AN: ** This chapter has a teeny tiny little lemon, no not even, it's like a lime, and not even that, it's like a thrust. Yeah…

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

"Okay I can't stand it anymore," Token finally asks, annoyed. "What do you want?" We've been sitting in his mansion of a house for over an hour, watching television on his theatre sized screen.

I skipped out on work to come here, calling in sick and not giving Zanadaci a chance to yell at me for faking, since I didn't even try to act sick on the phone. When I came here I didn't mention anything and only asked Token what he had been up to. He had said he was only watching TV and when I asked if I could join him he gave me a weird look but nodded. We've been watching since in silence, but I've been waiting for him to crack, he always does.

"It's Bebe," I start and he groans.

"I thought I said a long time ago I didn't want to get involved in anything you guys got into."

"It's not _just _Bebe!" I say in slight aggravation. "It's Bebe _and _Kyle."

"Bebe and Kyle?" he repeats back to me and I nod. Without a word Token reaches for the remote control and flips off the television. "You have my attention," he says, causing me to smirk lightly.

"…they've been spending a lot of time together recently."

"Yeah…and?"

"And…they've spending a lot of time together."

"So what, since when do you care about something like that? Doesn't it kill two birds with one stone? Bebe gets to see what it is you see about Kyle and Kyle gets to get close to another old friend from South Park."

"I know but…they do fucking _everything_ together. It's driving me nuts, it's pissing me off."

"Why?"

"I don't know exactly," I say loudly confused. "That's what I don't understand. I should be happy they're getting along so well and spending so much time together. Now I don't feel like I'm ditching one to hang out with the other."

"So you're annoyed that they're leaving you out?"

"They're not leaving me out, not really. They only hang out together when I'm not available, which is a lot lately, but otherwise I would be invited…at least I think I would…"

Token narrows his eyes slightly. "Then you're either mad at Bebe for spending so much time with Kyle or you're mad at Kyle for spending so much time with Bebe."

"I'm not mad at Kyle!" I almost shout.

Token looks taken aback as he looks me over, "okay…chill, then you're mad at Bebe?"

"…no."

Token looks like he might just hit me. "You wonder why I never talk to you anymore…" he sighs. "You're not making any sense then. Clearly you're pissed, and it has something to do with Bebe and Kyle, so you must be pissed at one of them if you're not pissed at their actions…are you following?" I nod. "Good. Now based on your reaction I'm going to assume that you're really not mad at Kyle, but that there is something related to Bebe and your current…_mood_."

"You say it like I'm PMSing," I frown at him.

"Aren't you?" He doesn't wait for me to respond. "So what I'm thinking is that you are in fact mad at Bebe, but not her exactly, just the fact that she's getting closer with Kyle than you are. You two were best friends and I can tell you want to be them again right?" I nod. "But," here Token snorts. "It sounds and looks like Kyle and Bebe are closer to being the best friends, and that pisses you off doesn't it?"

"Not really, I'm not pissed about that."

Token doesn't say anything to me as he glares. "Fine," he says after a long tense moment. "Then you're just jealous at Bebe for getting to know the guy you want to know so well."

I open my mouth then shut it promptly, before muttering to myself, "…jealous, hmm…? Hey Token?" I ask and he says nothing, waiting for me to continue. "What do you think of me and Bebe?"

He hesitates. "What do to you mean?"

He knows exactly what I mean, but I play along for his sake. "What do you think of us together, of us getting married?"

"…You know you have my support. I think you're damn foolish wanting to be tied down before you're even twenty-one, but I still support you guys."

I shake my head, frustrated. "That isn't what I mean and you fucking know it. I mean, what do _think _about us, are we good together?"

"I knew you would ask me this one day," he mutters to himself knowing I can hear him. "Kinda," he tells me, looking me straight in the eye.

"Kinda?" I spit back out.

"Yeah, kinda."

"…a couple weeks ago Kyle said that though I loved Bebe I want to marry her because I feel obligated to do so, not because I really want to."

"Kyle said that, huh?"

I nod silently.

Token leans back on his couch and looks up at the ceiling. "That's a good way of putting it."

"You too?"

He sighs and meets my eye, "I really…didn't want to be the one to tell you this. I was kinda hoping Kenny'd get around to it, but…." He trails off and I swallow a giant lump that's suddenly formed in my throat. I'm not sure if it's due to the anticipation at what Token's about to tell me or if it's because of the mentioning of Kenny. I've been trying to put him in the far corners of my mind. I can't say I've dealt with his death… I've just been putting it off in favor of more prominent problems.

First it had been getting Kyle to stay in South Park, then it was the fight with Bebe, and now its becoming close to Kyle like I once was, plus school, and work, and…and, I haven't forgotten about him, I've just been pushing away the ache I still feel whenever I think of him for later times.

"Yeah?" I ask quietly when I feel and realize Token's laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I didn't mean to remind you of him."

Shaking my head, Token removes his hand and I force myself to focus on the present again. "I'm fine, but you had been saying something you had hoped Kenny would tell me?"

"Oh right," Token sighs. "I kinda hoped he would be the one to tell you how everyone really felt about you and Bebe together. What Kyle said…is pretty much what everyone feels."

"Who is everyone?"

"Everyone who knows you're both engaged…"

"What, the whole fucking town?"

"Well not the whole town, that's probably an exaggeration, but a big portion of it."

I sit back and absorb this. I knew Ken didn't like the thought of me marrying Bebe, but he never said the whole damn town felt the same way. Now I'm wondering what my parents feel, they've always seemed happy for me. "For how long?" I question him.

Token is starting to look a little uncomfortable, and I guess I can't blame him, but I'm not letting him off the hook.

"Since you guys started dating."

"Five years?! Are you kidding me?! Why the hell didn't I know this?!"

"For fucks sake Stan, what were we all supposed to say? Kyle had left, Wendy had just left and even if it looked like a huge rebound to everyone you seemed happy with Bebe—"

"I _am _happy with Bebe!"

He goes on like I'd never interrupted. "Besides, you'd get all defensive, like now, if anyone mentioned anything against the thought. Dude, no one doubts that you're happy with Bebe, but what she feels for you and what you feel for her are two completely different things."

I stand up suddenly and he wordlessly hands me my jacket that I had tossed to the side, watching as I put it on.

"When will you, when will Kyle, when will everyone believe me when I say that I really love Bebe?" I can hear the annoyance dripping in my own voice as I head for his front door.

Token trails after me and as I get the door and stand outside on his large porch. Looking back at him he answers me. "When you can choose her over _him._ Later Stan," and he shuts the door.

Staring at the closed door, even though I should probably be more irritated at Token, I can't help but wonder about something instead. How did he know I would choose Kenny over my fiancée? It can't be that obvious…can it?

**Kyle**

"Okay," I unzip my track jacket and toss it on a bench. "Why do you want to learn to play basketball again?" I ask Bebe looking her over through my sunglasses. It's unusually bright today.

She's dressed head to toe in brand new workout out gear, clutching a basketball that looks to be just as new.

"Because," she starts and tosses the ball experimentally toward the basket. It falls _very _short. "Stan likes basketball; it's a huge part of who he is; playing with the guys, watching games. And I only realized I know nothing about it, and after this previous fight of ours I think the best thing I should do is try to incorporate myself more into what Stan likes to do."

"Don't force yourself," I respond and watch her try to shoot another ball, with one I pass to her. This one hits the beam and ricochets to the side.

"I'm not. I want to do this," she answers as she goes after the balls, and I watch her as she does so.

Stan and Bebe are back to being the couple everyone knows them to be, and based on how things are going I'm assuming Stan never told her what he told me about choosing Kenny.

"If you insist," I answer back, eyeing her form.

"Thanks for doing this Kyle," she smiles at me once she's retrieved the balls, tossing mine back at me.

"You know I have plenty of time on my hands. Okay," my voice hardens as I get serious. I may not have had any leadership position with my intramural teams, but I was captain in both my middle and high school years, and it wasn't solely because I was a good point guard. "First I want you to tell me what you know. Then, we'll go from there."

Bebe looks surprised by the tone of my voice, so I try to soften it slightly since she isn't used to it, but she'll have to if she wants me to train and teach her. I've only watched her shoot two baskets and already I can tell we both have a lot of work in store for us.

"Umm," she bites a nail lightly. "I know I want to get the ball in the basket and that there's a lot of running around."

"Okay. We call that dribbling, passing, and shooting, what else?"

"That's…about it."

"Ugh," I let out, a soft sound of disgust. Bebe and I have been nothing but close these last couple weeks, we've done a lot together and never once have I lost patience with her, but now…I can see those calm two weeks are over between us. "Okay then," I say and lightly dribble my ball toward her. "We'll start with the basics, an explanation of the game."

I briefly go over the point of the game, and explain most of the rules, doing a few demonstrations and asking her to do the same. As far as learning the rules, Bebe remembers fast. Once we've done a few drills to warm up our muscles I take her through some shots and explaining the different fouls, only to quickly stop when I realize we'll have to focus on dribbling and running at the same time first.

After about two hours of me slowly getting frustrated, we decide to call it an afternoon.

"Sorry Kyle," she says sheepishly. "I didn't think I'd be so bad."

"No one's good at first," I respond, and ignore the thought that I have natural talent. I'm not usually impatient with people, but when it comes to my game, I like people to be on par with me, and she acts as if she's never seen a game played before in her life. That thought sparks an idea in me and I look down at her. "Hey Bebe?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever _seen _a basketball game?"

"Of course, in high school and stuff."

"No, like a pro game, it's totally different from high school or college ball."

"On TV, sorta," she grins at me. "I've never had the patience to watch an entire game. Every time there's one on Stan's usually with the guys and after awhile I get tired of their yelling and leave."

"So you've never been to a live game?"

She shakes her head. "Why?"

"Well I think if you want to play this game you ought to see how it's done. Stan was going to get tickets for Token, Craig, and I to see the Nuggets soon, would you like to come with us?"

"Really?" She beams at me and I nod. "Okay sure, just let me know when it is so I can request time off of work."

"Awesome! I love taking people to their first games, it's such an experience Bebe. A person never forgets their first live game."

"I'm already getting excited to see it since you're so excited!"

"I'll let Stan know as soon as I can so he knows to get an extra ticket. So, now that we're done for the time being, want to go have lunch somewhere?" I ask.

She makes a slight cringe, "I'm too sweaty. We can meet up somewhere later after I've gone home to shower, if that's okay?"

I glance at my new watch, one I got from a shopping trip with Bebe. "Sure, I can meet you at your place if that's fine, but we have to hurry a little, I gotta get to work afterward."

Bebe nods and we start to gather our things, heading toward our separate cars. She had wanted to practice at our old elementary school, claiming there would be less people to see her embarrass herself, and she was right. Walking toward the cars I glance over the outside building. It looks the same, though I'm not sure if I expected anything to change.

I think about asking her if any of our old teachers are still there but decide I don't care. I never did like any of them.

When we get to our cars Bebe stops before she reaches hers. "Oh, I'll probably still be in the shower by the time you get there. Stan and I leave an extra key under the welcome mat. Feel free to let yourself in, okay?"

"Thanks," I nod with a smile, all the while thinking over how trusting she is of people. I would never, under any circumstance, leave a key under a welcome mat. In my opinion that's asking for a robbery, but I'll clue her in on that later.

I get home and quickly shower, changing into a new set of clothes and being sure to grab an in between lunch and dinner snack Stan made for me as I head out the door.

Before actually letting myself into Bebe's apartment, I at least knock, and hearing no reply, and knowing she's home I then let myself inside, frowning when I see the key is just where she said it would be.

Upon entering the first sound I hear is the shower running. I guess Bebe really knows herself, if she knew she'd be in the shower when I came by.

"I let myself in Bebe!" I call out as I slowly approach the bathroom.

"Okay! Just make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a bit!" she calls back.

Nodding to myself, I do as she suggests and make myself comfortable as I wait for her, plopping myself on the couch and flicking on the TV, sighing when nothing of interest catches my attention. Turning it off, I toss my sunglasses on the coffee table when a white photo album catches my attention.

Picking it out from under a pile of books where it was on their bookshelf I open it and shake my head with a smile. It's a wedding album, obviously empty as there hasn't been a wedding, but clearly something Bebe intends to fill up. The thought actually saddens me a little and I close the blank book before I dwell on what exactly saddens me.

My head snaps to the front door at the sound of it opening. I watch as Stan comes in and he freezes as he looks at me the moment he walks in. Closing the door slowly behind him he eyes me for a minute before his eyes wander down the short hallway where Bebe has finally turned off the shower.

"I thought you had work?" he says to me.

I nod. "I do, but not until later. Bebe and I were going to go have lunch first…" I pause. "She said it was okay to use you guys' welcome mat key."

"Hey Kyle?" yells out Bebe's voice from the bathroom.

Stan and I exchange looks before I stand from the couch to answer her, "yeah?"

"Can you get me a towel from the closet? I forgot to grab one and I just did the laundry early this morning."

I look at Stan, "I'll get it for her," he says to me quietly and I let him.

I sit back down and listen as Stan knocks on the door, hear as Bebe greets him surprised, and as she says what I've already told him. He mutters something I don't catch before coming back out into the living, sitting next to me on the couch.

"I came over to ask Bebe to lunch," he turns to look at me. "But it seems you beat me to it as usual."

As usual?

"As usual, but you said it was okay for us to hang out," I respond slightly defensively. "Why don't you just come with us?"

"…you wouldn't mind?"

"Why would I mind, it'd be fun since neither Bebe nor I have seen much of you."

For some reason Stan looks me over a little suspiciously. "You're sure it's okay?"

"Yes," I respond exasperatedly. "Why wouldn't it be, what do you think Bebe and I do when you're not around?"

"…I don't know, what do you guys do?"

I glare at him. Stan sighs and looks down, and I'm content to see that he looks ashamed before he suddenly brightens, "oh hey, I talked to my dad and he was able to get four tickets to the Nuggets playoff games, so you, me, Craig, and Token can all go as planned."

I grin back excitedly until I remember that I invited Bebe. "Oh, err, that's great…do you think he could scrounge up one more ticket next to ours?"

He blinks confused, "I guess, for who?"

"I invited Bebe," I state slowly. "Do you mind?"

"…Bebe doesn't like basketball much…at least I don't think she does. She's never shown any interest before."

I pause before I accidentally give away that Bebe is trying to learn more about the game for his sake. "Well I mentioned it to her and she seemed interested enough, so I invited her."

"Oh," Stan frowns. "…I was kinda hoping it could just be us guys."

I wince. I knew I should have asked Stan before jumping the gun and inviting Bebe to come along without letting him know beforehand. "Hey you know I can just tell her you weren't able to get another tick-"

"It's fine," he mutters, interrupting me.

Looking at him I can see how not fine it really is. I didn't realize how much he wanted the game to be a guys-only thing. He never said anything about it before, and while maybe inviting Bebe wasn't the best idea, I didn't think I'd get this kind of reaction from it.

We both turn our heads to the hallway at the sound of Bebe walking in. She greets us both with a wide smile and I watch her lean over to give Stan a quick kiss, ignoring a slight pang of envy. It has been awhile since I've had someone to kiss.

"Stan's going to have lunch with us," I tell her once they're through.

"Really?" She seems surprised and looks at her fiancée as if to confirm it. Stan nods and Bebe smiles even wider. "That's great honey! Do you have any preferences, Kyle and I hadn't talked of where we wanted to go yet."

"Wherever is fine with me…so long as it's not," he starts to rattle off over five different restaurants he doesn't like, stopping when I laugh. "What?" He questions.

"Nothing, it's just funny that you started with saying you're fine with anything and then you name off this huge handful of places you don't want to go to. You practically named every place to eat in South Park."

"Well the food isn't that good in this area," he mutters.

"Oh!" Bebe speaks up. "How about that new place downtown?"

"Which place?" Stan asks. "The one on Main?"

"What place is that?" I ask them curiously.

"It's near Mr. Zanadaci's law office," Stan responds. "It's Ukrainian food."

We all agree to go, more so out of curiosity. I don't think I've ever had that type of food before, though I'm not sure what would constitute as Ukrainian food. We decide to take two cars, Stan and Bebe in Stan's car, and I take my own, deciding that I'll leave for work directly after we all eat.

Getting there we see that half of the seating is outdoors, odd considering we're in the mountains of Colorado, but the day is still rather nice and we choose to sit outdoors on the wrought iron furniture.

It's actually kind of odd hanging out with Bebe _and _Stan and as we all sit and order together, I can tell it's odd for them as well. Conversation tends to flow easily between Bebe and I, but it's mostly on topics Stan has no interest in, so when I try to switch the conversation so Stan can get in involved it's on topics Bebe isn't interested in, and then, when _they _talk amongst themselves it's on events I can't relate too.

At some point we laugh over it al, but even so when they talk between the two of them I can't help but feel very left out. It's another reminder that I wasn't around for a pretty long time, long enough where they have, what seems like too many, events to reminisce on.

And eventually that catches up to our conversation and they go off completely talking and laughing about earlier times in their relationship. Staying quiet and taking the time to nurse my soup, which isn't half bad, I study them as they interact. It seems more like they're good friends than an engaged couple.

Continuing to study them I notice that Bebe's blushed a bit and I realize I haven't been paying attention to the conversation, not that it seems to matter. Her attention is completely on Stan and his seems to be completely on her. I frown. I feel invisible. I don't mind too much, especially since I realize this is probably the first time Bebe and Stan have seen each other in a few days, but still…do they have to flirt right in front of me?

It's getting a little irritating listening to them compliment the other on how much they love and miss each other. And if I'm not mistaken, and I'm not, they're both starting to get that…hungry look in their eyes, and it's not because of the food in front of them.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and let out a long sigh before fishing in my back pocket for my wallet. I toss a bill on the table and push away from the table to stand. That seems to snap them out of each other and they look at me surprised.

"Where are you going Kyle?" Bebe asks.

"To work. Early," I tell her lamely.

"You're not even done eating," Stan points out.

"True," I rush a hand through my hair. I'm starting to get a hang of how to run my hands through, even with the curls. "But I'm done being the third wheel. I know you guys need your time, so I'm volunteering to give it to you both. Bebe I'll call you later, Stan, I'll see you at home."

They both frown at me but Stan gives me a half wave before turning back to Bebe, whose attention is on me, and giving her a smirk.

What the hell is he smirking at her for? Bebe notices that I'm looking at Stan and glances over at him, but now he's smiling gently in that way I've noticed that warms her internally and causes her to melt. Not that I can blame her, it's a powerful smile, I've luckily never been in its direct line of fire.

But the fact that he changed his look when she met his eyes is a little odd for Stan. Shrugging and choosing not to think about it, I'm about to start to head out of the restaurant, before I hear Bebe's voice start to call out toward me. She's quickly cut off by Stan as he leans over to kiss her, muttering a, "let him go Bee."

I wince as they kiss. I guess it's my sign to leave and I do so.

**Stan**

From the corner of my eye I watch as Kyle hops in his car and takes off.

"What's wrong sweetie?"

I avert my eyes back to Bebe who's pulled away from the kiss and opened her eyes.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You just sighed, and it wasn't one of your happy content sighs. You sounded relieved."

I fight to make sure my face doesn't give me away, because rarely do I lie to Bebe, and when I have it's always been on extremely petty things. Like when I've said I was going to a friends and I was really sneaking off to a bar. Nothing big, and nothing that really had direct connection with her.

"I'm just relieved we get to spend some time together. Want to go back to your apartment?" I respond.

She leans back over happily to kiss me, a yes I suppose. I respond fervently, grabbing her face gently to hold her mouth against mine, to be sure she doesn't end it before I'm ready. I prod her mouth open with my tongue exploring the familiars of her mouth, relishing in it. Because no matter what people say this is the girl I love, the woman I'm going to marry, and the mother of my children when the time comes for that. This is my Bee.

"Stan," she mutters out in a half whine as we continue to kiss.

I pull own her bottom lip slightly with my own, backing away and nodding, panting slightly into her neck. "Yeah, let's go back to your apartment," I tell her out of breath.

She grabs my hand and we head out of the restaurant, not caring that we made a scene and that the whole place probably knows we're both off to go have what's going to be mind blowing sex. I quickly toss a few bills on the table and allow her to lead me.

We barely make it to her apartment, stumbling up the stairs, and the second we open the door and close it behind us, I rush to unbutton her blouse, and she laughs at my clumsy attempts. Only causing me to smirk and bite and kiss her neck right in the spot that always makes her let out this cute little squeak.

By the time we're in the bedroom I think the only article of clothing I have on is a sock, and she's pretty much in the same state. I push her down gently on the bed, barely allowing our lips a second to separate. And when they do I constantly mutter how much I love her and how I could never love her more than I do now.

With every thrust into Bebe, I feel like I'm reaffirming what I feel for her and with the final thrust, sending me over the edge I shudder and lean my head against her neck, smiling to myself when I hear and feel her release.

She inhales deep gulps of air, wrapping her arms around me, not allowing me to pull out.

"I love you too," she says and kisses my ear.

Bringing my head up to look over at her glazed over eyes I quickly look away and roll to the side, to rest beside her. Neither of us says anything more as we try to catch our breath and when I have, I look at the ceiling and rest the back of my hand against my forehead.

"Hey Bee?" I mutter.

"Hmm?" She turns on her side to look at me, all smiles, even so I keep my eyes upward.

"How was it for you?"

She laughs lightly, and kisses me cheek. "Incredible sweetie, the best so far."

…so far…

"What about you?" She asks back distractedly as she plays with my hair.

I clench my jaw because just like the last time we did this, I feel like there was something missing…only last time I didn't admit it, I just shoved it aside in thinking my mind was too preoccupied with other matters, Kyle and such…but now. Now I _know_, something is missing. Not physically, physically Bebe is as good as ever because we know each other's bodies so well. It _has _been five years, but emotionally…my mind was all over the place.

I mutter how great it was to her, and she seems to like that answer very much, and cuddles up next to me, laying her head on my chest.

"Stay the night," she whispers.

"I can't," I say petting her hair.

"Why not?"

"Because Kyle's waiting for me at home, we did practically ask him to leave us alone, only to end up having sex."

Bebe frowns, "he'll understand and we didn't just have sex Stan, we made love."

"Right honey," I say back to her, and gently shove her to the side so I can stand up. "But even if Kyle does understand I still won't leave him there."

"…do you realize what you're saying?" She asks quietly as she watches me pull my pants back on.

"Saying what?"

"You've been saying it for awhile now, you keep calling the apartment you have with Kyle home, and you keep calling our apartment my apartment."

I pause in my actions, "I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"Oh," I pull on my shirt. "Well its not a big deal."

"It is a big deal!" She almost shouts angrily. "You should care about what you're saying! That apartment you have with Kyle isn't your home it's just a temporary living situation! Your home is here, with me, in this apartment."

"Bee, I know it was just a slip of the tongue," I say and lean down to kiss her. "I'll call you tomorrow okay?"

She doesn't answer and I look back at her before I leave the room. "Okay Bebe?"

"Okay Stan."

I don't question her more, but what she doesn't know and what I don't understand is the sudden feeling to get out of this apartment, it's why I'm leaving so suddenly, like some guy who only wanted the sex and not the after part. I've never felt like this before, but I have to leave, and for some reason something in me is telling me I have to get back home, to the apartment with Kyle.

Giving her one last kiss, which she doesn't respond too, I head out of the apartment and drive quickly back home, getting almost a little worried. I rush into our apartment and whip my head around to see Kyle emerge from the kitchen wiping his hands on a dish towel. The televisions on and nothing looks out of place.

"How was the sex?" He asks rather dully, but I ignore the question.

"Are you okay?" I ask grabbing his shoulders.

"Huh?" He asks confused. "I'm fine, why?"

"…you're fine?"

"Yeah, I wasn't cooking if that's what you're getting at," his frown deepens and I shake my head to assure him that's not what I was concerned about. "Then what's up, you look out of breath, as if you ran here."

"Practically," I mutter and fall into a dining chair. "I was at Bebe's and I got this sudden feeling to leave and come back here to you, like I felt you had gotten hurt or something."

"…you did?"

"Yeah, fucking weird huh?" I say lightly and glance back up and Kyle to see that his face has flushed entirely. "What?" I ask curiously at the heat in his face.

Kyle lets out an exasperated sigh and thrusts one of his hands in front of my face. I jump up and clamp my hand over his wrist, "what the hell happened to your wrist?!"

"I lied," he says.

"Lied about what?" I mutter looking over the burn that's covering the side of his left wrist.

"Cooking…I got hungry and thought I'd fry up an egg or something. I didn't mean to burn myself."

"Jesus Christ Kyle, I told you stay the fuck out of the kitchen, you know you can't cook a goddamn thing without my help! Ugh God," I mutter and drag him into the living room, making him sit on the couch while I fish out the first aid kit we got awhile back.

Sitting back next to him I grab his hand again and to study the burn. I used to get a lot of them back when I was a novice, barely able to call myself a chef, and I became pretty damn confident at my skill in treating them. Even so, I still have a lot of faded scars, and looking at Kyle's creamy smooth skin I'm a little saddened to think some fucking pan will leave a mark on it.

"Isn't this a familiar scene," he suddenly says lightly.

I laugh. "Oh yeah, when I had cut myself on a glass from slamming it on the table, you took care of my hand that time." I wince remembering. "I never told you, but that hurt like a bitch."

"Good," he says simply and I whip my head up at him, shaking my head at his grin. "You were acting like an ass, I'd say that was pain well deserved."

"Hmph, I don't even remember _why _I did that."

"I do," Kyle glances at the large window of ours. "I'd been asking you about your day and about Kenny, and you bit my head off."

I freeze at applying a burn salve to Kyle's hand.

"That was the day you had said that you didn't need another friend, that you didn't like me, and that you didn't want me here."

"Ky-"

"Water under the bridge dude," he says looking back at me with a bright smile. I scowl at it.

"I never said I was sorry for that."

He shrugs, "I figured you were by now, you don't really have to apologize. We're way past those days."

I nod in agreement and finish with Kyle's hand letting in drop to his side. He glances at it. "Thanks," he says to me.

"Sure," I respond distractedly. "Kyle do you realize it's been like…three months since we moved in here? We only have a month and a half left before the agreement's been fulfilled."

He looks surprised and I can see him calculating the weeks in his head. "Oh, you're right. Three months…wow, a lot has happened…"

"You think so?" I think over it, shaking my head. "I don't things have changed that much from the beginning."

"What are you talking about, you hated me when I first came back, now we're good friends. It used to be kinda awkward for me to live with you and now I feel like we've been roommates forever. Things have changed a lot from the beginning."

Maybe he's right, but, "I didn't hate you when you came back."

He snorts out a laugh, "you could have fooled me."

"I was just mad. I could never really hate you, at least I don't think I could. You were my best friend from childhood and even if we'd been apart for the rest of our lives and never saw each other again, it's not like I'd ever forget my first best friend."

Kyle doesn't say anything in response.

"And…" I start again. "We're not that good of friends now, you and Bebe get along a lot better than we do."

He smirks, "ahh I finally get it, you're jealous huh?"

"Pretty much."

Kyle looks surprised for a minute, studying me curiously, matching my eyes. "Why? I'm not trying to woo her over or anything, you know that."

"Who said I was jealous of you?"

"Wha-"

I look away from him, losing my confidence and feeling increasingly awkward, "I was at Token's before I went over to Bebe's. We came to the conclusion that I didn't like that Bebe was getting to know you more than I was. It's not fair you know?" I look back at him with a scowl on my face. "You're my old best friend, and you came back to live and work things out with me, not her, and yet you're with her all the time. And I know you guys can't help it, I know you guys get along, having found your soul friend, or whatever in each other, and I know I've been busy a lot but still…

I can't really justify it, but seeing you guys together, seeing Bebe getting to know the older you when I haven't even, it just pisses me off. I was even relieved that you left us today to go to work, and not even so Bebe and I could be alone, but because then you two wouldn't be around each other anymore. And it's like every time I try to get to know you better, you invite someone else along. I had only invited _you_ to the Nuggets game, and then you had to go and invite Craig and Token."

"Why didn't you-" He starts slowly and I cut him off.

"It's not that I don't like hanging out with those guys, I just thought the game was something we could do together, just us, but I wasn't going to raise a fuss about it. But then, you invite _Bebe_? She doesn't even like basketball."

"I'm just-"

"I realize she's my fiancée, Christ, people act like I forget that, and I do want to spend time with her and all that, but it's already been _three months _Kyle. You're outta here in six weeks; excuse me for wanting to fuck off everyone else to spend a bit of time with you before you go hom-"

Kyle stops me in my rant by dropping a gentle hand on my knee. I finally look at him, and not through him as I had been doing to reflect on how I really felt about things. I hadn't realized it until it all came out. He gives me a light lopsided smile and squeezes my knee cap.

"You should have just said so."

I give him a weak smile back and rest my own hand over the hand he has on my knee. At the touch we both jump and he snatches his hand back, eyeing it, before he casts his eyes back at me.

I wonder if the same look that's on his face is on mine. I wonder if he felt that odd jolt in his body that I felt in mine when I touched his hand, but maybe he didn't.

**-FG**

**AN: **Lately I've been thinking more about Kenny. I started this story in…okay so I don't remember but I _do _remember that about a month later I found this song. That song out there, I feel, describes who he is perfectly. And come the epilogue I'll give the name of the song, I think it's worth hearing, especially if you compare it with the page Syntic did on Kenny for chapter 6.

Speaking of which she's updated three new pages, so go look and watch more drama unfold before your very eyes!! And hello to new reviewers/hugs/ Support is always much appreciated:)


	30. Kyle and Stan IV

**AN: **THIRTY CHAPTERS! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! I do have to dedicate this chapter to someone. Tara, this one is totally for you, because I think you love this story more than I do. Enjoy the celebratory chapter everyone…though I ought to mention it is VERY much **unedited**. So NO NEED to point out all the errors you are bound to find.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

I stand and rub the back of my neck, "so uh." Brilliant words from a Stanford attendee. I can't help it though, my hand tingles and from the look on Stan's face his probably does as well. What the hell was that? "If – if, that is…" I don't know _what_ I'm trying to get at, but I no longer feel particularly comfortable in the living room with Stan, and he doesn't look too comfortable either. "I mean to say that if you want to spend some time together just uh, let me know in advance and I'll…make sure not to, umm, schedule anything with Bebe or…anyone else."

From the corner of my eye I watch him nod. I'm starting to feel an urge to bail. I have to leave this room. I want to be in my room, alone, and not starting to realize that I squeezed Stan's knee cap like some girlfr – no point in finishing that thought. "Well," I fake yawn. "I guess we should-"

"Head to bed," Stan finishes for me and stands. We both step away from each other and look away. How can things get so awkward so fast? We were just having a real bonding moment, just like when we were younger and I fucked it up, not that he helped. He didn't have to lay his hand over mine.

I nod slowly, "yeah, uh, good-"

"Night, yeah. I have to get up early for a meeting with my boss anyway," Stan bolts off for his room before I have a chance to say anything more. Not that I was going to, I'm at a loss and instead of going back to my room as planned I fall onto the couch.

Well, that was awkward.

Maybe it's not that big of a deal. I touched his knee, and he laid his hand over mine. That's happened before, well not the knee thing, but our hands have brushed each other's all the time, and I've…always kinda felt weird about it. I hang my head. In doing so my eyes catch a packet of papers resting under the coffee table.

I reach under and pull them out. They're filled with percentages and demographics. Must be Stan's stuff for work, and he probably hadn't meant to leave it under our coffee table. Releasing a long sigh I stand and drop them in his bag which he left in the hallway. He did say he had a meeting tomorrow. I scribble a note, using his supplies from his bag, and add it to the papers already in a folder before looking at Stan's door.

Sounds quiet inside, but there's no way in hell he's asleep so quickly. I raise my hand to knock. I should probably tell him about the papers I found at the very least, but just as I'm about to knock I chicken out. The note should be good enough. Instead I go in my own room and prepare for a very restless night.

One touch shouldn't get to me this much. It was just one single brief touch. Yet it's set us both on edge and I don't even want to think of as to why.

-

I yawn and get up from my bed. I feel like I'm up earlier than usual, and checking my clock I'm right. My alarm hasn't even gone off yet, but it will soon so I decide to beat it and get up for the day. Sleep did not come easily, and even when I managed to I kept have obnoxious dreams about old hags, rainbows, and side split denim shorts. Ugh.

Stepping out of my room I pop my head in Stan's for some reason. I don't plan on getting him up but…I don't know, I just don't feel the need to pass by his room without checking in on him. He's still asleep as I look in so I close his door, leaving him alone.

He probably doesn't want to talk about what happened last night. And that's perfectly fine with me. We'll act like nothing has changed for now, but though we're probably not going to talk about it I can't help but think about it. Technically, nothing did happen. It was just…his touch on my hand felt…different. The look in his eyes was…unfamiliar, his entire air was something I haven't felt or seen before. It made things change, though I doubt anyone simply observing us would have seen the difference.

Shaking my head I quickly make myself a mug of coffee and steal the morning paper from the neighbors across from us, they never read it anyways, before settling back down on the couch and skimming the headlines. "Hmm, Microsoft stocks are going down, that's not too surprising..." I mutter to myself as I take a sip from my mug, even I can make a decent cup of coffee…okay it's a little on the watery side, but it's something I can tolerate.

Eventually Stan whips by me in a frantic blur, completely disheveled, and swearing to himself.

I glance at the clock on my cell before taking another sip of my warm brew, "I thought you were supposed to be at some kind of meeting early this morning?" I call out to him sounding slightly disinterested.

"I fucking am!" He yells back at me.

"Then shouldn't you have left earlier?" I mumble crossly to myself at having being cursed at for no good reason.

"Ugh!" He rushes into the living room and looks around frantically. "Where the fuck are my black shoes?!"

I'm not sure if he's talking to me or just talking in general, but I answer all the same. "Why not wear those Nike sneakers you have?" I question half heartedly as I turn back to my news article.

"I'm head fucking chef, I can't wear sneakers to work! I need my black ones!"

"Oh yeah," I say calmly my back still to him as I continue to drink my coffee. "Did you try looking in the front closest?"

Stan makes some sort of snorting noise. "Of course I tried looking in the fucking,-" He stops at the same time that I hear the closet door open. He's muttering to himself and I assume he's found his shoes. I feel him rush by me again back into his room.

As I turn the page in the paper my eyes catch his car keys on the coffee table.

Seconds later Stan rushes back out and this time I turn to look at him, frowning at his appearance. His hairs sticking up everywhere, he's managed to button his shirt up wrong, his shoelaces are tied as if he's just learned how and only half his body is in his jacket. There are papers in his mouth and he's stuffing his messenger bag with what looks like a few recipes for something.

"I'm going," he mumbles as he makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait a damn minute!" I holler and he freezes with his hand on the door knob. I stand and shake my head as I walk up to him. "Slow down will you?" I order, not ask as I take the papers from his mouth. "Put those in your bag."

"What are you my mother?" He asks me annoyed. "I need to get going." He answers himself and opens the door; I quickly shut it with my free hand. He glares daggers at me, but I ignore his look and take his bag, much to his dismay. I put the papers that were half hanging out of his mouth inside before closing it and handing it back to him. "Thanks," he mutters not at all thankful. "Can I go now?"

"No," I tell him softly but firmly. I pull up his jacket, forcing him to put his other arm through it. He sighs impatiently, but I continue to pretend that I don't notice it. I take the time to unbutton his entire shirt and re-button each one properly. As I start to bend down heading for the shoelaces I swear I hear his voice hitch and I look up for a moment brushing my hair out of my eyes to look at him. His face is turned away and I tense as a blush starts to form on my own face, before lacing his shoes correctly. I linger longer than necessary at tying his shoes to be sure my face color has returned to its natural color.

Standing back up to look back at him he looks at me expectantly. "Right, your hair," I mutter walking off to the bathroom to grab a brush. I expect him to release some sort of groan of protest that he's only going to be later but he says nothing. Inside the bathroom I grab my brush, unable to see his right away and stare at myself in the mirror.

What the fuck am I doing? I'm dressing Stan. I'm about to go brush his hair. I turn away from the mirror. Stan is on a schedule and if I stare at myself any longer he'll be later than he already is. When I walk back to him I happily note that he didn't slink off quietly while I was in the bathroom.

"I couldn't find your brush, so you'll have to deal with mine," he simply nods as I slowly run the brush through his hair. Combing out the tangles and snares, I try to style it the way he usually does. Which isn't hard considering all he ever does is run the brush through it a few times and calls it a day. When I'm done I stand back to look at him once more and smile.

"Much better."

"Thanks, later," he says without another word and slams the door shut sprinting out.

Before I can turn he sprints back in, "fuck I forgot my wallet." He enters and runs to his room. I hear the sound of banging and crashing before he sprints back out, and out of the apartment without a word to me. I can hear him stomp down the stairs and before the steps have even made it all the way down they fly back up and I jump out of his way as he re-enters again. He looks at the ceiling and shouts an extremely long stream of curses.

I wouldn't dare ask him what he forgot this time.

He rushes back in his room and when he comes back out I see his hand is cradling his cell phone and he's already on it explaining to whomever that he's going to be a little late. A little is an understatement but I feel it's best not to tell him that now. Instead I soundlessly walk past him and back to my comfortable spot on the plush couch with my paper and slightly cooler mug of coffee.

Now that my back is to him once again I don't see him stop dead in his tracks but I hear him.

"What account papers?" He says clearly into the phone. "I have no idea what you're talking about so how can I have them?"

I glance around at him and he's staring straight at the door with an almost panic look coming across his face. No wonder really; he'll officially be late for the biggest meeting of the year and he's apparently lost some papers he doesn't recall even seeing. It's a good thing I remember seeing them a week or so back.

"They're on the second shelf on your bookcase," I say quietly to him so the other person on the line can't hear. He looks over at me surprised but he races once more, back into his room coming out with a folder. He flips it open and rattles off a few names to the person on the cell phone, a look of relief coming over him.

He nods his head at me and leaves the apartment again closing the door behind him quickly.

I jump up suddenly when I remember his keys are still sitting in front of me. I swoop down and grab them.

"Wait, Stan!" I call out, jumping over the couch about to open the door when it swings open again almost hitting me in the face. We both look a little surprised, and he also looks winded.

"Right, I'm sorry, I don't know where my fucking head is today," he says shaking his head, his ear still against the cell phone.

I'm about to tell him that everyone has their days and hand him his car keys but surprisingly he doesn't seem to see them and instead gives me a quick chaste kiss on my lips before stepping back and shutting the door once more.

Did he just…

I'm left standing in front of our door with my jaw slack and Stan's car keys still dangling off my finger.

**Stan**

What a fucking morning. This is what I get for lying in bed all morning brooding and trying to avoid confrontation. I heard Kyle open my bedroom door, but I chose to feign sleep. He never even mentioned last night's incident, even when he saw me walk out of my bedroom when I finally managed to get myself out of bed. Not that I gave him the chance to mention it with my running around as if I were on speed.

I hung up on Margaret who took my old job, to call my dad quickly about getting that other Nuggets ticket. He said he'd work on it and now I'm back on the phone with Margaret talking about the meeting I'm currently late for. This doesn't look good on my part. People were already hesitant to accept a19 year old, as head chef saying I couldn't possibly be responsible enough for the job. And here I am, proving them right. Getting to my car I stop at the driver's side and start fishing for my keys in my pocket. When they're not there I check my pants pocket, then getting slightly annoyed but still talking on the phone I check my inside jacket pocket.

That's when it hits me, my keys had been sitting on the coffee table and I hadn't gone near them all morning.

But they weren't on the table anymore. They were in Kyle's hand, who I kissed on the lips before I left.

"Oh fuck," I say distinctly and hang up my cell phone while Margaret's still talking. I'll explain that later.

Stepping away from my car I looked at my reflection in the windows. How could I have done that? How could I have kissed him like that? It was quick…but it was affectionate, and…I squeeze my eyes shut and rub an oncoming headache. It felt _natural, _it was natural. That's why I was able to do it at the time without even thinking about itAnd it isn't even as if I could worry about it later because he's still up there holding my fucking car keys!

I take a deep breath and gather myself before walking back up to the apartment. Before I've reached the floor my cell phone rings. I have every intention on ignoring it, I've got more pressing matters upstairs, but my eyes glance at the number anyway.

Alright, so my matters aren't that pressing. There is no way I can ignore Zanadaci's personal cell number. I pick it up as I look up at my front door to lean against the side wall of the building.

"Hey Mr. Zan-"

I'm not at all surprised when he cuts me off. "Where the hell are you?!" He barks to me. "You're supposed to be here right now, you'd better be at the front entrance!"

"Actually…" I start meekly. "I haven't left yet."

"You haven't left yet?" He screams back to me. "Why in the hell not!"

I know he really isn't asking me for an excuse, he hates them, but I tell him anyway. "I'm really sorry Mr. Zanadaci and I promise I'll be there as soon as I can, I was just rushing and running late and then just as I was about to leave I accidentally sorta kissed Kyle, you know Kyle right? They guy I'm living with for a few months? Right, well I sorta kissed him right on the lips as I was leaving by complete accident and I would have just left it at that but the thing is…he has my car keys in his hand and I need to go get them before I can leave."

Oddly enough there is silence on the other end of the phone.

"Jesus Christ," he finally mutters. "Just get here as soon as you can. No unnecessary dawdling, you boys can discuss that in detail after I'm through with you."

"Of course sir, thank you Mr. Zanadaci."

"Kissing your friend on the mouth, honestly, never happened when I was in my younger years," I hear him mutter as he closes our connection.

I release a huge sigh of relief, at least he understands the severity of the situation. Walking up the last steps to reach the front door I knock as if I can't just open it.

Kyle opens the door slowly and we stare at each other for a long time. Finally he looks away and holds up my car keys. I take them silently.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome," he responds, and then its silence again.

"…I was rushing," I start hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"I always did that with Bebe."

He nods.

"I…thought you were Bebe."

"It was an accident," Kyle says and I nod.

"Because I was rushing and I wasn't thinking."

"Right."

"Right, okay, then…I'll see you later."

"Okay…you're going to be late."

"Yeah," I rush a hand through my hair, messing it up. "But Zanadaci called and I explained."

"That's good."

"It is."

We stand in further awkward silence.

"…Stan?"

"Yeah?" I ask him. For some reason my voice sounds a bit hopeful, but I'm not sure I want to ponder over why.

"You should leave."

"What? Oh! Yeah, you're right. I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, I'll start dinner."

At this I smile, this is familiar territory, "don't bother, you know you can't even boil water." Kyle smiles back at me and nods, and I turn and walk back down the stairs.

-

I remember that when I walked in late to class in high school I never felt awkward about it. It was more like, 'I have way too much of a social life to come here on time' so I didn't care as much. I care a lot more now walking into the rented conference room for a meeting. I try to be discreet about it, but the second I open the door about ten pairs of eyes fly toward me. The only set I recognize are Mr. Zanadaci's and I'd rather not focus on his.

I mutter my apologies and sink into my spot next to him.

"My head chef," he says out loud a little distastefully, gesturing toward me. I give everyone in the room a small smile and I feel the relief flood me as the smile is genuinely returned by everyone in the room.

They quickly brief me in on what I've missed, it really isn't much and the real talks begin. Talks I unfortunately can't seem to concentrate on. I just keep thinking of what I did. What the hell came over me? I played it off, saying I thought he was Bebe, but really…I knew exactly who he was. I bite my lip, so what does that mean?

"Stan!" I'm poked, rather hardly, by Mr. Zanadaci and I look up catching his eyes.

Shit. I must have been asked something. "Oh, err, could you please repeat that?" I ask meekly.

"I had _asked,_" he starts to repeat glaring even harder at me. I know the second this meeting is over that I am going to get an ear load. "If you had the demographic papers? We're going over the usual food intake the new target area tends to prefer."

Demographic papers? What in God's name is he talking about?

I keep my cool and nod slightly, opening my bag and rummaging through the papers. What the hell am I going to do? I don't even know what he's talking about, oh fuck, I really need to pay more attention. Why couldn't he have asked for the fucking account papers?!

"Do you have the papers?" Mr. Zanadaci mutters to me in my ear, I can hear the way his teeth are starting to grind together. I don't answer him and keep looking, even though there is no way they could be in my bag, as I have no clue what they are. "Do you even know what they are?!" He hisses at me causing me to cringe.

Before I start to raise my head and admit what's happened I catch sight of a packet of papers I don't remember putting in my bag. I pull it out and the first thing I see is a note from Kyle.

_Hey, these papers were lying on the floor under the coffee table. It looks like it concerns work so I just put them in your bag for you. You probably don't need them, but you never know right? _

_Kyle_

I almost want to cry. Yeah, you never fucking know do you.

I hand the papers to Zanadaci and he eyes me before he flips through them and starts talking again. Jesus, Kyle saved my ass, and it's a nice feeling, to know he has my back even when I don't realize he does.

The meeting continues without any more problems and it seems like everyone has started to reach a consensus. Mr. Zanadaci will be opening up another restaurant and instead of heading toward Denver as was the original intention they want to go out of state. It's been narrowed down to San Francisco, New York, or Chicago.

All the investors and campaigners leave the conference room together. I stand to do the same but am quickly forced back down on my chair. I lower my eyes to my lap. I feel like I'm going to get the scolding from hell.

"What…" he starts out. "Was that?"

"It's…it's been a long day Mr. Zanadaci," I say finally.

"It's ten thirty in the morning."

"Yeah," I nod agreeing. Only ten thirty and shit is all over the place.

"You are damn lucky you're so likeable," he tells me shaking his head in disgust. "Now then, those people are all headed back to the restaurant for brunch and you are going to make them the best damn brunch they have ever had or you are very, very fired. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Wonderful," he says dryly. "Meet me at the restaurant and no tours."

"Yes sir," I sigh and stand, heading out behind him.

To say my heart is into my cooking this morning is far from believable. I know I'm acting sluggish in the kitchen, and everyone's noticing, if the whispers are anything to say about it. But because I'm making, what I've made over a thousand times, my thoughts can wander without worry of too much trouble. Though Margaret, at one point, has to snatch a skillet I was frying apples on before they burned. Other than that I know I did my above average job.

As I stand behind the kitchen doors and watch the investors take their first bite I'm not that surprised to see the smiles break out and to hear the gasps. I watch as Zanadaci takes a bite beside one of them. He frowns at the food and looks up, catching my eye at once. He makes a signal at me and I know to head to his office.

"I made it how I always make it," I say first thing in my defense when we're in his office after the guests of honor have left.

"And that's the problem." He curls his lip and fingers a pocket knife he always carries around. He says it's an emergency cooking knife. I've decided not to bother asking about it. "You can do far better than your performance today, I'm highly disappointed."

I go rigid in my chair. Is he really about to fire me?

"Though the agreement was that the brunch had to be the best one our guest had ever had, and you received enough compliments for me to believe it was that. I said nothing about it being the best brunch I've ever had. Anyway," he turns in his chair. "You're free to go for the day."

"What? But I still have six hours le-"

"Not today you don't," he cuts me off. "You're distracted again, and you know I won't have you in my kitchen in this state. So do me a favor and straighten out your life as I am getting rather tired of catering to it."

I nod numbly and stand to leave.

"Oh and Stan?" I turn back to look at him expectantly; "do let me know how things work out with that friend of yours."

"Which friend?"

"The one you kissed," he raises an eyebrow at me before suddenly leaning over and pulling something from my hair. He holds it up. It's a strand of red hair. "That's been irritating me all morning. Your friend have red hair?"

"Yeah," I respond quietly and take the strand from his hand; I can feel Zanadaci eye me as I do so. "He brushed my hair this morning with his brush…he couldn't find mine."

"It's a very nice shade of red."

"Kyle does wear it well."

Mr. Zanadaci is quiet and I pull my eyes from the hair to look back up at him, "I wasn't planning on it now, but I'd like to inform you of a few observations I've made over the past months Stan."

"…ah, okay."

"You cooked better when your friend Kenny was alive, and you cook even better now since you moved in with the redhead." That said he flicks his wrist at me. A gesture to leave and don't look back.

Closing his office door I take a moment to lean against it and brush a hand over my lips. I'd forgotten about the thing with Kyle this morning momentarily, it was nice of him to remind me. But I hadn't realized my cooking had ever been affected. Heading for my locker I ignore the calls of my co-workers and the congratulations aimed my way for impressing the investors.

With running late this morning, and then rushing to the meeting, and then rushing to work to cook, I was kinda able to put the kiss, the fact that Kyle more or less dressed me, and whatever it was that passed between Kyle and me last night to the back of my head. But with the whole day off? I don't have classes today and glancing at the clock in the back room where we leave our personal belongings, I'm wondering if Kyle's left for the day.

Maybe. But what if he doesn't work today? He doesn't work everyday so there's a big possibility he's home. Then what, how should I act? I mean the kiss was embarrassing as hell, as was the reaction I got when he buttoned my shirt this morning. I'd rather nottalk about it, but at least I can shrug it off as an accident. What about what happened last night? That touch… I'm not sure what it sparked, but it's left me feeling a little…nervous and uneasy.

I have to talk to someone. But there's no way in hell I'll ever tell any of the guys about this. I'd never live it down. Perhaps…

I head out of the restaurant and drive my car toward the cemetery. Upon arriving I feel a little guilty. I haven't been back to visit in long time, but a huge part of me has been avoiding it, in fear of what might come over me if I did visit.

"Hey Dude," I say listlessly to the gravesite. "Sorry for being MIA for so long…things got complicated the past few weeks." I lean back against the tree that overlooks his grave and cast my eyes down. "Kenny…" I start again, trying to decide where I should begin. "How come you never told me no one likes the idea of me marrying Bebe? Token, of all people, told me yesterday…and recently…things haven't been the same between Bebe and me, because Kyle…"

I slide down the trunk of the tree and allow my legs to sprawl out in front of me. "He made it sound like I'm only marrying her because it's the right thing to do at this point, and I just…I keep trying to tell him, and everyone that it's not like that. That I love Bebe…I know you didn't like her, but she's always been there for me."

An old woman walks by and I halt in talking. She eyes me curiously before looking at Kenny's grave.

"My best friend," I say, answering her wordless question. She only nods, and continues on her way further into the cemetery.

I look back at the stone tablet. "Anyway," I continue like I hadn't stopped. "I slept with her the other day." I snort. "Yeah, big deal, she's my fiancée, but it's been weird as of late, and yesterday I felt like I was only doing it to confirm to myself that I still love her as much as I did when we first started dating. I felt like a complete bastard afterward, and I kinda left abruptly, but also because I had this feeling I had to go home. Like Kyle needed me or something. He didn't. He just burnt himself, but you know what?"

I pause as I consider telling him what happened. It's not like he'd tell anyone, but I don't think I could stand the thought of him laughing at me over it in heaven.

"Last night, I got this really weird jolt when I met Kyle's hand, and it was probably like static electricity, but still. It felt nice…" I murmur. "And this morning, Ken, I kissedhim. On accident," I rush out. "But even that felt…"

I can't say it. Even if it's to Kenny. I can't actually say it might have possibly felt nice, for as quick as it was. I barely even touched his lips, so how can I really know if it felt nice or not?

"It felt natural," I say instead. "And recently Kyle and Bebe have been acting like best friends, and it has pissed me off beyond all logical reason, and it's because Bebe is closer to Kyle than I am. Tell me that is not fucked up? Dude," I shake my head to myself. "Things were much simpler when you were here, and when Kyle was in California. Yet, Zanadaci says I'm cooking better since he's come here."

Eyeing the rest of the cemetery I try to think more than I would like to about this situation. It might mean nothing. That touch, and that kiss, but the problem is I felt like it meant something.

"I don't want to hurt Bebe," I say suddenly. "But I probably will, don't you agree, that sooner or later it's going to happen?"

I stand and reach in my hand to pull out the pair of sunglasses Kyle got me for Christmas. I have never worn them. They've always seemed too much for my tastes. But looking at them now, they seem kinda cool, with their blue lenses and all, and Kyle had been in an uproar about it as if it was gold or something. I may never wear them, but they're always on me, just in case I decide to put them on one day.

"Well today isn't that day," I say laughing lightly to myself, but even I can hear the pull in my laugh. "See you later Ken," I say gently and head back for my car before putting the sunglasses back in my inside jacket pocket.

**Kyle**

When I walk into work the first thing I notice is the girls sitting huddled together whispering amongst themselves. They don't even acknowledge me when I pass them. It's suspicious behavior and once I clock in I'm heading right for their table.

I'm actually surprised I was even able to get to work today. I thought of calling in sick, but decided a distraction was just what I needed.

After what happened this morning I probably stood looking at the closed door for twenty minutes. I had recovered a lot faster than Stan did from his explanation, but it didn't mean I wasn't churning inside. I mean…what kind of excuse was that? Just because he kisses Bebe when he leaves doesn't justify his reasons for kissing me…I mean, does it? I'm not entirely sure.

"Yo Kyle you planning on clocking in?" Craig asks me and I look up to meet his eyes, realizing I've stopped walking and am currently standing in the middle of Cherry Kiss, looking like a complete dumb ass.

"Oh, right," I mutter and start walking again for the back room.

"Chef is making some calls in the office, so it's just you, me and Mike."

I nod distractedly and continue to my locker that's in the back. Punching in my employee number in the time clock, and wrapping my apron around my waist, I grab my notepad and head back out onto the floor. Craig is already taking a few orders, and I brush past a few customers who look like they might want me to get them something.

I stop at the girls' table and look down at them. They're still ignoring me. I clear my throat loudly, and still no response. I frown. What is up with these three today?

"I was thinking of dyeing my hair," I say, causing them all, save Mercedes, to jump. I give them my best smile, "what do you girls think; I was thinking maybe a nice jet black?"

"Darling don't go and dye your hair, and don't sneak up on people like that," Mercedes says, smiling back.

"Yeah sweetie, you're a natural redhead, you should embrace it! We're such a rarity!" Lexus practically cries out.

"I wasn't really planning on dyeing it; I was just out to get your attentions. So speaking of which, what are you three conspiring about?"

"What's conspiring?" Porscha asks bewildered.

"It's plotting secretly honey," Mercedes answers.

"Oh," Porscha nods her head before breaking out in a grin. "Then we're doing just that!"

"Porscha!" Both Lexus and Mercedes yell at her.

"What?" She asks blinking, before placing a hand on her mouth. "Oh, sorry girls."

"That's okay Porsh," I say to her. "Your order is on the house."

I look down at the other two, more specifically Mercedes. I realized a long time ago that she was definitely the brains of the three. Lexus isn't as lost as Porscha tends to be, but Mercedes is the one I have to look out for. Often enough I feel like there're things she knows that she's not telling me.

Porscha beams at me, while the other two frown. "So, what are you three plotting, and why do I have a feeling it concerns me?"

"Because it does," Mercedes says with a glint in her eye.

"Mercedes," Lexus says looking at her.

"It's already out of the bag anyway."

"I suppose," Lexus smiles. "Sweetie, inquiring minds want to know, what a cutie like you wants in a significant other?"

"Who?" I ask bluntly staring at Lexus.

"Inquiring minds."

"Which inquiring minds?" I repeat, brushing my curls from my face.

"Customers and friends alike."

"Oh," I think a moment as I pick up a few used plates from customers who have just left the restaurant. "I don't know…I never really thought about it."

"Well think about it Red," Mercedes pipes. "Do you like them quiet and mysterious or loud and outgoing?"

"…either I guess," I respond indifferently. "So long as I can talk to them."

"What about looks cutie?" Porscha asks curiously, before smiling. "Do you like black hair better?"

"Or red hair?" Lexus adds.

"Or blondes?" Mercedes questions.

I look at the girls, curiously. They've never raised interest in what kind of person I'd like before, so it's a little odd that they are now. I have a feeling they might be trying to set me up, but with who I can't imagine.

"Hm," I think a moment, "I suppose I like black hair best."

Porscha beams, and the other two frown. "But I like straight hair better." Lexus grins at me. "And blue eyes," I add lastly, causing Mercedes to finally drop her frown. "I like the contrast," I mutter thoughtfully. "It'd be nice if they could cook too…" I trail off wonderingly. "Anyway, I have to get back to work so unless you girls plan to order anything else I'm going to have to ignore you in favor of work."

"You go ahead and work darling, we're done asking questions," Lexus tells me and I nod at them before walking off, looking back at them curiously before shrugging and heading into the back kitchen.

"What did the girls ask you about this time?" Craig asks me as he refills a few water pitchers.

"They were asking what kind of girl I like."

"Ahh," Craig replies. I can sense his interest peak. "And what sort of girl is that?"

"I'm not picky…" I start out, "but the girls pumped me for specifics with looks."

"And what did you say, brunettes with green eyes?"

I eye Craig's green eyes annoyed and frown at his brown hair, "no. Jet black straight hair, and blue eyes…and as an afterthought I added that it'd be nice if she could cook."

"Dude…"

"What?" I ask as I take a platter of prepared food, heading for the floor.

"…Kyle, you just described Stan."

Craig winches as I drop the entire platter and I look down at the food bewildered at how I lost my grip. I bend down to start picking things up, and tense as Craig's hand brushes past mine to pick up the platter.

"Am I reading into things too much?" He asks eyeing me as I avoid his eyes.

"…at this point," I mutter as I stand back up to lock eyes with him. "I don't even know. I haven't…I don't…Stan's…my old best friend and Bebe's fiancée."

"So if he wasn't Bebe's fiancée?" He questions raising an eyebrow.

"He'd still be my old best friend."

"Humor me for a bit here Kyle."

"Craig," I whisper out and he blinks surprised, probably at the strain in my voice, because even I'm surprised to hear it. "We're at work remember?" I state and turn to dump the platter, heading for Mike to let him know he's got to make the order again.

"And if we weren't at work?" I hear him ask me, but instead of answering I slip back onto the floor, content with the idea that he never asked me in the first place.

What kind of question was that? _Am I reading into things too much? _Where did that even come from? What exactly does he think he's reading into? And…I rub my head. I'm getting a headache.

The spark last night was an accident. The kiss was an accident. They were both accidents. They deserve to be laughed off. They don't deserve to have so much of attention, or my thoughts. Nothing good would come from them.

Nothing.

Stan's probably forgotten all about it by now.

-

"Audi."

"What?" Stan asks as he turns to look at me as I enter the apartment after work.

"Audi is the name of the girl Mercedes, Lexus, and Porscha want to set me up with."

"Set you up with?" Stan wonders and I watch him a drop a chip in his mouth from a large bag beside him. Sniffing the air I can smell that he's making something that's forcing me to control my drool reflexes. "You leave soon, what's the point in setting you up?"

"That's what I was thinking," I respond as I peel off my coat, and kick off my shoes. I'm normally considerably neater than this, but I'm too tired to care right now. "But apparently she lives in San Francisco, she's just visiting the girls for the week."

"How convenient."

"Unfortunately," I respond and dump myself in a dining chair to watch Stan brush a sauce over some kind of meat, before sticking it in the oven. "What are we having?"

"Rabbit stewed in stout."

"…first off, what the hell is stout, and second…I bought rabbit?"

"Stout's dark beer, like porter, and yeah, you bought rabbit," he eyes me. "You bought a lot of interesting things awhile back, and I've already made all the usual dishes, now I'm having to get a bit more into the exotic stuff. It's fun actually, so tell me more about this Audi."

"I told you all I know. The girls don't want to get into the details of it, something about it being a surprise."

Stan eyes me. "You mean you're going to go out with her?"

"Haven't decided," I respond honestly. "But it might be fun, it's not as if I have someone waiting for me back home in California."

"…you know I never asked you about that, if you had a girlfriend."

"I don't," I say simply. "Not since high school. I barley have time for my friends, let alone a girlfriend, but who knows. I might humor the girls and take their friend on one date. So," I go on, noticing that Stan is looking down at the oven. "How as your day?"

"Distracting and short," he looks up at me and we both avert our eyes at the same time.

I release a forced out laugh, "yeah, no kidding, but hey we both know it was an accident, and I'm sure crazier things have happened with you and the other guys right?"

"…"

"I mean I've definitely had some wild nights with my friends back home that I don't remember, but that I'm told about."

I can feel Stan staring at the back of my neck, and just like that I don't feel it anymore. When I turn around, I see him cutting up a few red potatoes.

"We'll just forget about it," I say quietly.

He nods from where he's standing in the kitchen. "Agreed," he finally says. "No point dwelling over awkward situations right?"

"Right," I agree dully.

Right.

As he makes the finishing touches on dinner his cell phone rings. "Can you get that?" He asks as he pulls out the rabbit from the oven. Didn't he just put it in? I think, but I nod and lean over to answer that from where it was resting on the table.

"Hello?"

"Stan?"

"No, Kyle."

"Kyle, how are you doing?"

"Who is this?" I question.

"It's Randy."

"Oh, hey Mr. Marsh, I'm doing well, how are you?"

"Not bad, is my son around?"

I look over at Stan, he's poking at the rabbit with something, but he looks distracted.

"He's a little busy, can I leave him a message for you?"

"Sure, can you tell him I was able to get that extra Nuggets ticket for him?"

"You got it? Great! Thank you! It was on my request," I respond, feeling my excitement lift.

" You're welcome, I was lucky to get these seats, to get these tickets. They're sold out now, and I had to call in a few favors."

"Well then I owe you one Mr. Marsh," I laugh into the phone.

I quickly finish my conversation with Mr. Marsh at the sounds of Stan cutting up the food. "Your dad got us the extra Nuggets ticket!"

"Great," he responds as he sets the food dishes on the table.

I frown, "I am sorry about inviting Bebe without telling you, but I can't really…un-invite her. We'll do something else, just the two of us, some other time okay?"

He gives me a weak smile as he sits down, "sure thing, and the game might be more fun with more people."

"Exactly!"

Before I have the chance to dig into the rabbit Stan's phone rings again. He nods at me to answer it, and I do so noticing he's just stuffed a forkful of food in his mouth. I glance at the caller ID. "Oh it's Bebe," I say as I flip open the cell.

"Hey Bebe!" I answer cheerfully.

"Kyle?" She questions back, confusion in her voice.

"Yeah."

"Why are you answering Stan's phone?"

"He's eating right now, oh hey we were able to get that extra ticket for you for the basketball game."

"Oh good! When is it?"

"It's in…" I trail off and glance at Stan who holds up seven fingers before going back to eating. "Seven days," I finish. "Can you make it?"

"I should be able to…you haven't told Stan why I want to go right? I'll tell him later."

"Don't worry I haven't," I say eyeing Stan.

Without meaning to, Bebe and I lapse into a conversation. I can't help it, she really is someone I click well with. I'm sure we could have kept talking but my eyes brush over Stan's plate, noticing that he's finished his dinner and that he's now looking at me irritated.

"Bebe-" I cut her off from her informing me of some bitch at work that's getting the better of her. "Didn't you call to talk to Stan?"

She gasps lightly, before laughing, "oh yeah. I'll fill you in later, can you get him for me if he's done eating?"

I nod though she can't see and hand the phone over the table to Stan. He gives me a rather sarcastic smile before taking the phone and resting an elbow on the table.

"What's up Bee?" He says at once.

I wince at my food after I've taken a bite. It's good, of course, but it's a little on the cool side. Noticing, Stan grabs my plate before I have time to protest and leans over from his chair to stick it in the microwave.

"I already ate," he says into the phone. "I'm having dinner with Kyle."

With nothing to distract me I listen shamelessly to Stan's side of the conversation. He's paused, and I assume Bebe is talking.

"I never said anything about coming over for dinner…" he frowns and leans back over to take my plate out of the microwave and hands it back to me.

I take it almost greedily and cut a new piece of the meat. Probably not as good as it would have been if I had eaten it right away, but definitely a new favorite dish. Then again I think that about almost everything Stan cooks.

"Well I told you I'm already done, and by the time you come by Kyle'll be done too, but I guess we can watch a movie or something in the living room." He pauses, "okay, see you in a bit." He hangs up his phone and rubs his eyes before standing up. "Bebe's coming over for a few hours."

I nod to acknowledge that I heard, as I continue to eat. After swallowing, I help the food down with a glass of water, "should I disappear or something?"

"Disappear? No of course not. It's too late for you to go anywhere and besides we're only going to watch a movie."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, even if I wanted to do something more she doesn't. She's a little annoyed at me right now. She's acting like she's not, but I know I pissed her off last night when I was over there."

"Why's that, couldn't get it up?"

Stan looks shocked and I grin at him. He gets a hold of himself and smirks as he takes his empty plate into the kitchen. "I can _always _get it up. She's mad for a number of reasons, none which I want to go into."

I shrug, "I won't press for details."

We quickly clean up and in doing the dishes together I thought things would still be a little on the tense side, at the very least uncomfortable, but they aren't. Stan and I are quickly back into the state of being friendly and when Bebe rings our doorbell, it's like nothing ever changed between us…

"I'll get it," Stan says, leaving me to dry the last few dishes.

Yup. Things are back to normal. There might as well have never been an odd spark last night, or a kiss this morning, or a fixing of his buttons, and brushing his hair and…

"Hey Kyle!"

I jump at the sound of Bebe walking into the kitchen. I turn and grin at her, feeling a little like I've been caught.

"Hey Bebe, how was the drive over?"

"Normal, I brought over _Helen of Troy _have you seen that movie before?"

I shake my head, "I've seen _Troy._"

"Same concept, but this one is even better, it's the more believable version."

"Do we have to watch that movie, again?" Stan groans as he walks into the kitchen beside Bebe.

"Yes," she grins. "Kyle hasn't seen it."

Stan gives me a look that tells me I should have pretended that I had seen it, he clearly doesn't want to see it again, but I am curious. Troy was alright, but it'd be nice to see the proper version. The two of them head into the living room and I quickly put the dishes away into the cupboards.

When I come out I see that the movie is in place and that Stan and Bebe are sitting comfortably on the couch, favoring one side. She's huddled into his chest and he has a casual arm draped around her. I head for the lounge chair and just as I sit, Stan calls out to me.

"We left room for you over here for a reason, you can't see the TV that well over there," he says and gestures to the spot on the couch beside him.

"Um, okay," I say and stand and sit myself down next to him.

Bebe leans over and grins at me, "you're going to love this version Kyle."

I'm sure it'll be interesting.

The movie starts and I find that I'm only paying the barest amount of attention to the movie. I'm paying more attention to Stan and Bebe. Stan actually seems to be watching the movie, and he actually seems pretty absorbed for someone who was against seeing it in the first place.

Bebe on the other hand is paying more attention to Stan. She cuddles, if even possible, closer to Stan and that causes him to look down at her. She smiles at him, and he gives her one back. But I notice how weak and tired it is.

Bebe's eyes go back to the movie and I discreetly nudge his knee with mine. His head practically whips over to me.

'You okay?' I mouth.

He scoffs, but nods. 'You?' He mouths back.

I nod and turn back to the movie, realizing that for some reason, I lied.

**-Faery Goddyss**


	31. Kyle and Stan V

**AN: **This was one of those chapters I had the most issues with. I still think it could use some work but I decided to post it on a limb anyway before I changed my mind and deleted pages again. Be prepared for a lot of scene changes, poor grammar, and a hellava lot of drama.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

I kick the door irritably and grumble to myself.

"What have you been so grumpy about lately? You've been seething for days now." Stan asks as he turns a page in one of his textbooks.

"Nothing," I mumble. And it's the truth. I've been waking up on the piss ant side of the bed for awhile now, and there doesn't seem to be any valid reason for it. I just feel like being grumpy.

He snorts, "yeah okay, lying aside can you stop kicking the door? We don't want to have to pay for repairs."

"We already paid the damage deposit anyway…"

Stan looks up from his book to stare at me. He points a finger at the seat I don't normally occupy for dinner, the one beside him. "I have a math question."

I retreat from the door and slump in the chair. He eyes me again, but doesn't say anything on my random mood. Instead he points to the problem. Logarithms and exponential equations.

"What do you need help on?" I ask listlessly, looking over the problems.

"All of it."

I do some quick explaining and watch as Stan attempts to figure out a problem afterward. I've never seen him do homework before. I've lived here, for what seems like a long time, and I've never once see him crack open a textbook.

"Since when do you do homework?" I ask passively.

"I always do it, but I've always done it at work on my lunch breaks. I hate taking homework home. Home should be for relaxing, not stressing over classes," he mutters to me as he continues to work a problem. "Didn't you have online classes?"

I stand and head for the kitchen, only to open and close cupboards meaninglessly. I'm not hungry. "I don't feel like doing homework."

"What about work?" He glances at me after scribbling something.

"I'm off today."

Stan drops his pencil into his book crease, "is there anything you can do besides wasting away? Why not call Bebe or one of the former Raisins girls, or Craig, or Token, or someone, anyone?"

"Craig's working, and I wouldn't want to talk to that rat bastard anyway. Token didn't answer his phone, I don't want to hang out with the girls because they keep giving me this countdown for when Audi comes, three days now. And…I don't want to hang out with Bebe right now." I mutter out that last part.

"I thought you two were attached at the hip." It sounds almost like a sneer, it probably was, but he's already told me he's not that fond of how close Bebe and I are, as compared to where we are.

"We're not," I respond back defensively, knowing that's not true. Save the last few days Bebe and I _were _attached at the hip. I've still been meeting her everyday for basketball lessons, but ever since she came over to watch that movie with us that night…since then I haven't been feeling too partial toward her. I mean, I still love her as always, I just…I don't know what my problem is.

"Okay we are," I admit. "But I don't feel like arranging something."

"Uh huh…well tell me why Craig is a rat bastard," he says as an after thought.

_Because when I described my ideal girl he said I described you._

I'm not telling him that. Unfortunately it's probably one of the reasons for my recent mood. It's been one of many things that have been on my mind as of late. Though I think Craig is looking into nothing. Lots of females have Stan's basic looks, maybe they can't all cook, but some of them must be able to. It wouldn't mean that I had been describing my old male best friend.

"Because he is," I lamely tell Stan, but he seems appeased with the answer and doesn't question me more on it.

"Are you officially going on a date with Audi when she gets here?"

"Yeah," I grumble. "I told the girls I would, so we're going to do something on her second day here, on Friday."

"You better not have been planning for Friday night," Stan suddenly seems irritated.

"Why?" I question. "I figured the evening would be best. Makes clichéd sense doesn't it?"

"Have you already forgotten Friday night is the _Nuggets _game?!"

I open my mouth to answer, "…Yes." He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in aggravation. "I'll just go on my date with her and then head to the game straight after. I can meet you guys and Bebe there."

"Fine," he answers shortly and goes back to answering math problems. He does so in silence and after too long my boredom and annoyance come running back to me. It must be radiating out of me because Stan eventually starts to tap his finger on the dining table before he looks up at me yet again, "I'm almost done with my homework, so when I am want to go with me to a few stores? I have to find new dress slacks for work."

"…really?"

"Yeah, so far you haven't set aside that time for us to hang out together." He's teasing, I know it and I give him, perhaps the first real smile, in days. "And it's just shopping but I figure…" he trails off gesturing at me.

I look down at my clothes today. If Stan knew what it was he'd realize I look like I just walked out of the winter 2007 GAS fashion show. But he probably doesn't so I probably look how I always do to him, a little overdressed.

"Well hurry up with your homework problems!" I say, completely rejuvenated. "Let me know if you get stuck. You're slow on answering them, so I don't believe you when you say you're almost done. It'll be fun to go shopping with you and your limited taste!"

He frowns at this, but goes back to his text, and begins writing away on a notebook. I hover around him for a little bit, trying to urge him to do his problems faster but he quickly gets irritated. I can tell because he's accidentally ripped a page in his book.

"For fucks sake, would you go away?" He finally says to me.

I do so without argument and find myself back on the couch staring restlessly at the blank television screen. I don't want to disturb him so I don't turn it on, instead I fidget for awhile. Maybe I'm a little _too _excited at the idea of shopping with Stan. I know he said he only needed a new pair of slacks for work, but really the guy needs a whole new wardrobe. All he wears is jeans, solid and graphic tees, sweatshirts, and his winter coat. He dresses up for work, but work doesn't count.

While I think of what things I need to convince Stan to buy my cell rings. Fishing it out I flick it open automatically. "Hello?"

"Hi Kyle, it's Bebe!"

Oh.

"Hey, Bebe," I try to keep the cheer in my voice.

"What time should we meet for basketball?"

I almost forgot about that. Bebe and I haven't met today for her practice, "Actually Stan and I are going to go shopping. He said he needs some pants for work, so I'm tagging along."

There's a long pause in the phone, "my Stan…shopping for _clothing_, are you sure?"

I nod before quickly realizing she can't see my nod, "yeah, we'll be leaving in a bit here. As soon as he finishes his homework…but he's taking awhile with it."

"I'm going as fast as I can!" I hear him yell.

Snickering I continue my conversation, "anyway so that's out," I say careful not to mention what we planned to do out loud since it's now obvious that Stan is listening to my end of the conversation. "Tomorrow we can though, but you should come along with me and Stan."

I want to punch myself after I say that. I invited her along without even blinking and I already want to take back my invite. But maybe she'll be too busy to-

"Really?! I think I will! I've never been able to get Stan into a clothing store for longer than ten minutes, but I bet the both of us could manage it!" She laughs and I sink into the couch.

I'm about to respond when I find my cell phone yanked out of my hand. I look up and see Stan glaring at me. "Bebe?" He says into it. He pauses, before quickly continuing. "Kyle and I are shopping alone," he adds bluntly.

I can hear Bebe about to make some sort of protest but he continues as if he never heard her. "It's not about you nagging me over buying the same kind of clothes, it's about Kyle and I hanging out together, without someone else. We can do something later, but you're not coming along. We'll talk some other time."

After hanging up on Bebe he tosses my cell phone back at me, before glaring again, and heads back to the dining table to resume his homework.

Watching him quietly for a few minutes as he tries to get back into the swing of logarithms he chucks his pencil at the book suddenly and catches my attention again.

"You invited her without even thinking about it," he accuses and I nod. "Goddamn you Kyle," he mutters and turns his attention back to his things. "Do you even want to spend an ounce of time with me alone?"

"I-"

"Look," he goes on, ignoring me, his eyes still glued to his book. "I know I fucked up royally with that kiss, but it was an accident alright? You don't have to get moody because of it, and you don't have to avoid me so much. It's not an action I'd like to repeat."

"I didn't say I didn't want you to rep-" I stop mid sentence. Luckily my thoughts are working ahead of my mouth, but…not by much it seems. "Anyway," I continue quietly, avoiding those blue eyes of his. "We already agreed that was an accident, and it's not why I'm moody…and I haven't been avoiding you."

"God, fuck my homework," he says and closes his books. "So maybe you haven't been dodging me, maybe that's just my imagination, but we both know you've been snappier than usual. What _is _causing the mood? Have I done something else to piss you off without realizing it?"

"No," I answer aggravated. "It's not you, I'm just…are you almost ready to go shopping since you're not going to finish your math problems?"

He doesn't even bat an eye at my change of topic, "yeah, let me just grab my coat and stuff."

"Don't forget to change," I add as he heads for his bedroom.

"What are you talking about I'm already dressed," he calls out once he's entered his bedroom and I'm left standing in the living room.

"Yes, but you clash," I call back.

I hear him fumble around his room, and when he comes back out he's wearing the same thing, but with his normal jacket. "I don't clash, I'm embracing the I-don't-give-a-shit look."

"That's almost funny," I respond back, grabbing my keys from the coffee table.

-

A few hours later and four stores after that, Stan and I have finally found a place where he's happy with the slacks. And here I figured he'd pick the first black pair he came across. For a guy who hates to clothes shop he's been fucking picky about a pair of plain dress pants.

"I don't want to have to find another pair for a long time," he said as his way of excuse.

Pants aside, it wasn't actually that hard for me to drag him in a fitting room with half the clothing in this store. There might have been some whiny resistance, but it was easily ignored and now I'm sitting on a bench while he tries on some things I picked out for him.

"Kyle!" Stan calls out from behind his dressing room. I set the magazine I was reading to the side and head over to the door of his fitting room.

"What's up?" I answer.

"This belt buckle is bigger than my hand, can you get me a smaller one?"

"It's not _supposed _to be small. It's meant to stand out, and don't exaggerate."

There's silence from him for a moment, "why would I want something this flashy? Where am I supposed to wear this?"

I chuckle and lean on the wall next to his door, "outside. It's day to day wear."

"No. It's not."

"Yes. It is, let me see it."

"No. I look like, like,-"

"Let me see it," I interrupt and I hear him grumble before he eventually opens the door.

"I don't see how this is any different from anything else I already own," he mumbles.

I give him a strange look before I shake my head and look him up and down. Not fucking bad. Sometimes I impress myself. It may look like something he already owns, but that's the point. I don't see Stan wearing anything I own, so if he has to wear just t-shirts and jeans he could at least wear the right ones and in the right way.

"I like it, you look good."

I think I see him blush, but he turns away to face the mirror inside his room.

"Guess it's alright," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I still think the buckle is fucking excessive but…you're the expert right?" He grins in the mirror and I grin back.

"Now you're getting it, change into something else now," I respond and close his door for him before retreating back to my bench and the magazine I was reading.

"What the-" I hear him talking to himself. "Dude this belt is over a hundred fucking dollars!"

"It's an investment," I respond back lazily, turning a page.

"It's not an investment, it's a waste of money! I don't even need oneI have plenty of them! I'm not getting this, get me something cheaper."

"I knew you would ask that, and that _is _the cheapest one," I respond as I scan over an article about the Nuggets. Hm, seems like people are predicting they'll make it to the finals. It's about damn time.

"What?! Okay, after this we're leaving and we're going to a place I can afford!"

"I thought you liked the dress pants here?"

"I do," he says and emerges from the fitting room dressed in his original clothing and holding a bunch of clothes he's clearly put on his no-fucking-way list.

"They're over two hundred," I say and close the magazine, ditching it where I found it. "You'll shell out that much for one pair of pants, but not for a belt?"

"These pants," he says tossing them to me with his free hand. "_Are_ an investment, I actually intend to wear them every other day. The belt I don't intend to wear anywhere."

Frowning I pick up the belt from his reject pile, "but I like the belt."

"Tough. Expert or not Kyle, it's too much. I'm going to go pay for the dress slacks."

Stan dumps all the clothes he tried on, onto a cart that's nearby and bypasses me to the small check out line. Slightly dejected at not being able to make him buy anything except the one thing he really intended on buying I take hold of the belt and walk slowly toward the line, standing beside him.

"What are you doing with that?" He looks at the belt, annoyance written all over his face.

"Nothing," I mutter. It's such an interesting buckle. It has one of those Celtic lions on it. A real shame he isn't getting it. "You did look incredible in it," I mutter to myself.

I'm surprised when it's yanked from my hand. I look up and see that we're at the cashier and that Stan is muttering to himself as he hands the pants and the belt to the cashier who's smiling like he knows something we don't.

"I thought you weren't going to buy it," I say as the cashier starts to ring up his two purchases.

"I'm only getting it because you like it so much and you keep looking at it like my not buying it is some sort of loss to all mankind."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to get it."

He glares at me before turning to the cashier, "how much?"

The guy grins, "two hundred forty-six, eighty-seven."

"What about the belt?" Both Stan and I ask at the same time.

"It's on sale."

I grin wide, and Stan sighs handing over his credit card.

He quickly finishes the transaction and we leave the store together. "That's enough shopping for one month," he grumbles and I nod agreeing. It's not much fun to shop with him like it is with Bebe.

I feel a pang of guilt in my chest from thinking of Bebe. My shopping buddy. I feel like I'm cheating on her, and with her fiancée of all people.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Stan asks as he sees my face fall. "I got the belt, and it was on sale, I'd say that's a victory for you."

We climb back in my car, and I start the engine to head back toward South Park. "Bebe," I say simply and I know he won't understand what exactly I mean by that, but I watch as he leans back into his seat, somewhat gloomy.

"Yeah, Bebe."

I'm…confused. I wonder what he means by that, but I don't ask and we ride back home with small talk that has nothing to do with Bebe, or belt buckles.

**Stan**

I am never going to wear this belt. It's too much.

And if that's the case why the hell did I waste money on it? Granted I was lucky enough to get it on sale, but I had been willing to shell out over a hundred bucks for it. Why spend so much on something I don't even like?

Because Kyle likes it. Because he likes it on me, and I swear his face about lit up when I grabbed it from him and said I would buy it. I know he would have stopped pouting about it eventually and I know he hadn't been angry at me for not wanting to spend so much on it. So there really is no reason for purchasing the damn thing, with its huge belt buckle that's supposed to be huge.

"You'd think I was trying to buy his attention," I mutter to myself as I brush my hand over the belt. I place it in my closet with my other belts before pulling my work clothes on.

It's the day after the shopping thing with Kyle and he's off somewhere with Bebe. He didn't tell me where they were going and frankly I don't care. Or that's what I'm trying to tell myself. It was working for awhile, but looking at the belt reminded me where Kyle was not.

Doesn't matter. Zanadaci will murder me if I'm late. As far as I know we haven't heard back from the investors about opening the second restaurant. While he seems rather passive as usual about the whole topic, he's still been more of an ass lately than he usually is. He's even barking at the bus boys that they're not doing their job right. So when he was off at the bank a few days ago I called a short meeting, and everyone at the restaurant decided on a strict consensus to do everything in our power not to piss him off. It hasn't been working. He's been finding faults in everything that everyone does.

And being late has been his number one reason for exploding the longest. I have about thirty minutes to get there. Traffic should be okay, and I'm just about to leave so arriving late won't be an issue for me.

My ears perk at the sound of the front door opening and of Kyle and Bebe's laughter wafting through the apartment.

Sounds like Kyle is in a better mood. I guess the reason he wasn't acting like himself was because he and Bebe got into some sort of argument…but I guess it's over and they're back to being the inseparable friends I know them to be. It isn't a comforting thought.

I close my bedroom door and walk into the living room, seeing Bebe waiting outside of the kitchen dressed in what looks like jogging gear. She's telling Kyle what sort of drink she wants and I clear my throat, when I realize she hasn't noticed me yet.

Bebe jumps, "oh honey! Hi! I didn't know you were here…Kyle said you'd probably be at work and we didn't see your car downstairs."

I raise my eyebrow curiously at her. It sounds _almost _like I caught her, and Kyle off guard by being here

"I was just about to leave," I answer slowly.

Kyle walks into our small dining room and I watch him hand Bebe a water bottle, before opening one for himself. He's dressed in the same sort of clothing Bebe is.

"Did you two…go for a jog or something?" I question.

They exchange looks, "…yeah," Bebe answers. "We were working out for a bit."

"…uh huh…" I reply. They sound entirely too suspicious and while it would be interesting to probe them for more answers, I have to get to work. "Well, I'll be leaving then."

I head for the door but am stopped as Bebe calls out to me, "oh wait, Stan!" I look back at her, waiting expectantly for her to continue, "since Kyle is leaving soon…"

What soon is she talking about, there's still a month and a half.

"We need to start talking about the wedding details again," from her pocket she extracts a piece of paper and hands it to me. "Even before Kyle came you kept avoiding what you wanted for appetizers at the reception. Honey we need to decide these things quickly, oh! And," she looks back at Kyle. "Kyle, I'll have to get you an invitation too! You'll need to give me your school address so I can send you one when we resend them out to everyone else."

"Sure, I can give you it today before you leave," I hear him respond as I unfold the paper and look at all the options.

I completely forgot about the wedding.

"I don't like any of these," I say and hand the paper back to her. She frowns at me and places her hands on her hips. "You haven't liked any of the menus I've ever picked out!"

"Why don't you make the menu Stan?" Kyle asks confused.

"Because I don't want to," I say at the same time as Bebe says, "Because he doesn't want to!" hers sounding exasperated, mine bored.

"We've had this argument since the day we started planning the wedding months ago. And to be honest," she glares at me. "I want it settled _today!_"

"Today?" I question back with disbelief. "You can't just spring this on me, I have a lot of other things to think about."

"I didn't just spring this on you Stanley! You've known for over six months! Unless you forgot all about it?!"

I avoid her eye, "look, I'll think about it today, but I have to get going to work. Zanadaci is on edge, and I don't want to be the one to make it worse. I like my job and I would like to keep it."

"Fine," Bebe says. "But you had better get back to me on this. I'm not kidding Stan. We need to go back to planning this wedding."

I give her a slight nod, but say nothing of it. I catch Kyle's eye before turning and leaving the apartment for work. Heading for my car I close the door and sit inside of it without turning on the engine. I set my hands on the steering wheel and look ahead at the other cars in the parking lot.

Staring at Kyle's hybrid I make my decision.

Dialing for Bebe's cell she picks up on the first ring, "Stan?" She questions.

"cheddar cheese puffs, shrimp scampi, bruschetta, stuffed olives, antipasto squares, and a melon platter. Good enough?"

She's silent for a minute but I can feel her smile, "perfect sweetie, I love you."

I clench my hands on the steering wheel, as my eyes again, land on Kyle's white car. "I know you do," I say and hang up. I start the engine and head for work, knowing I'll be late.

**-**

"Do you think this looks okay?" He asks for the millionth time. It's the day of the Nuggets game, which also means it's the day Kyle has his date with Audi.

"Dude, they all look fine," I stress. "Who cares, I thought you weren't aiming to impress her? Besides you don't plan to go to the game dressed like that are you?" I ask looking over his clothing. Kyle looks good, as usual, but it's not something you probably want to sweat in going crazy at a basketball game. He'd have to risk beer, nachos, and an assortment of other foods and beverages dropping on him.

"Of course not, I'm bringing a change of clothes and leaving it my car to put on after I drop Audi off. But you like this outfit too?" He goes back to the topic of his date clothes.

"They're _fine, _they've all been fine, you look good in anything," I say exasperated.

"Aww," he grins. "You're sweet, and I know I look in everything." Kyle smirks and I shake my head going back to watching a Wonder Showzen episode. "But that isn't the point," he goes on. "I need something that says: I'm always careful about what I wear so I'm not trying to impress you. I still want you to have a good time, and yet make sure you're aware that nothing is going to come of this date. I'm only doing it for our friends' sake."

"…can clothing really relay that long of a message?"

"Yeah," he grunts and peels off his jacket. "No, I don't like this jacket, maybe the dark green one," he mutters and wanders back into his room. He comes back with the jacket he was talking about on, and he's nodding to himself.

"Okay, this is it, nice?"

"Great," I say without looking and dropping my hand into a chip bowl.

"You're not even looking you bastard!"

"I've seen it," I say and turn to actually look at him. "That was the fifth outfit you tried on about an hour ago."

"Oh," Kyle looks down at himself. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"…that's funny how you remember. Anyway," he glances at his watch. "I guess I should be going to pick her up. She's staying at Mercedes' place."

"Where are you taking her?"

"Dinner in Denver, she wants to see the city. We're going to Panzano's…ever heard of it?"

I frown, "yeah. That's one of our rival's at work."

"Oh," he smiles sheepishly. "Well Audi likes Italian and I looked it up. They had good reviews…I'm sure it'll be horrible."

"Just go," I mutter and fall deeper into the couch.

Kyle laughs, "okay, I'll see you at the game. We're meeting in front of the west entrance right?"

"Right," I say dejectedly. I stare blankly at the television and listen to the sounds of him gathering his keys, his phone, and probably doing a last check to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. "Hey…Kyle?" I ask quietly, hesitantly.

"Hmm?" He questions back distractedly. He's probably looking for something.

"What if you…" I trail off and look into my chip bowl.

"What if I what?" He says after I don't finish my question. I jump when I feel him drop onto the couch beside me. I look up and meet his direct stare.

I rub the back of my neck and cast my eyes toward the wall where, it seems like ages ago, our black vase used to be. "What if you like Audi? What if you guys really hit it off and she's, like, _the one_?"

Kyle snorts, "Okay, I doubt she's the one."

"You never know," I respond quietly.

"She's friends with the former Raisins Girls, and while Mercedes seems to have grown a very complicated brain, and while Lex and Porsch have their own quirky habits that I love…none of them are the type of person I'd date. Too much friend material and I have a feeling Audi will be exactly the same."

"But shit, just humor me! What if you and Audi hit it off?!" I look back at Kyle, feeling slight anger and not knowing where anger, of all emotions, sprung from.

He looks taken aback and I can see him thinking of an answer, while wondering what the hell has suddenly gotten into me. He shrugs and looks around as if looking for an answer for my question.

"I don't know, it's something I'd have to play by ear. I didn't expect that when I moved here I might return to Stanford girlfriend in tow."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to calm down. "Didn't mean to yell at you," I mutter.

He leans over and nudges my shoulder with his, "don't worry about it, but I really think you're getting upset over nothing."

" 'm not upset," I lie, dropping my face. He chuckles, clearly having seen right through it.

"And hey," he continues, and stunned he takes a hold of my chin, forcing my head to look at him. "Even if something _did _happen, and Audi and I _did _hit things off, it's not like I'm going to leave you in the dust."

I can feel my face go red, and as if realizing where his hand is and how close our faces are, he drops my head and stands back up.

"Anyway, I've already done that with Bebe and I won't do it again. So… I'd better leave, I'm going to be late at this rate." He gives me a quivering smile and takes off before I have a chance to say anything.

I drop my head back against the back of the couch and close my eyes, leaning my head toward the ceiling.

What does that make that? Awkward-moment-that-still-felt-oddly-nice, number three? I blindly reach around for the remote to turn up the volume. I need to drown out my thoughts.

It works for about a good hour, but after that hour has passed my cell rings and I realize that as I glance over to look at the number I'm hoping it's Kyle, calling me for whatever reason. When I sigh in aggravation at seeing Bebe's number instead I bit my lip. I shouldn't be annoyed that I'm seeing her number instead of Kyle's.

My phone keeps ringing until it reaches the voicemail. After the beep sounds, letting me know that a message has been left I pick up the phone and call in to hear what Bebe has to tell me.

_Hey it's me! _She starts off cheerfully as ever. _I wrote down everything you wanted to have as appetizers and I was going to call Mr. Zanadaci about them. You still wanted him to cater right? I know you don't personally want to work on our wedding, but you had said you wouldn't eat anything that wasn't made by your boss's restaurant. Anyway, I don't have his number on me, and I wanted to get it from you. We'll need to discuss how many of each appetizer you think we'll need. You're so much better at the food aspect than I am. But call me back, okay sweetie? Love you!_

I shut my phone and toss it to the other side of the couch. I'll call her back later.

Leaning back into the couch I decide that maybe a nap is in order. It'll keep me from wondering about Kyle. Like if he's met up with Audi yet. I glance at the clock and decide he probably hasn't. But then when he does I wonder what he'll think of her, if they _will _hit it off and if they do, what that means for us.

It wouldn't mean anything…would it? Kyle said he didn't have a girlfriend back home, and while he never said anything about wanting one, he didn't say anything about being against having one.

What if he and Audi hit off so well that she decides to stay in South Park until Kyle goes home? We already don't see much of each other. We do have dinner together occasionally, but I've been going back and forth with him and Bebe. And then at times all three of us have dinner together, though that isn't too often. So if Audi decides to stay I really will never see the guy.

I rub my face fiercely with both hands.

Okay, I need to chill out. Kyle hasn't even met the girl yet. For all I know they'll hate each other…which I doubt. The only person who has ever hated Kyle, which I know of, was Cartman. He's a likeable guy, he always has been. That's why he was my best friend, that's why now, that's why I get so…angry that I don't get to spend time with him, and that Bebe does.

I mean, what makes her so special that she gets so much of his devotion and friendship when I don't? And I…

I take a deep shuddering breath. I'm getting worked up at the notion of Bebe and Kyle again. How can I help it though? I just get these intense feelings when it comes to those two, and it's hardly ever been good feelings.

Closing my eyes I think about the decision I made for the appetizers for the wedding. Our wedding, Bebe's and mine. That's right, a bond that not even Kyle will be able to break.

But right now, what I want most, more than an unbreakable bond with Bebe, is one with Kyle. One she can't break, one that Audi can't break. One similar to what we had when we were little, but it needs to be stronger, because the one we had when we were little boys _was _breakable. He proved that himself.

All of as sudden I realize it's too much. All of it. Looking over at my cell phone I reach over slowly, pick it up, and dial. This is probably one of those rare moments where I can actually say that I'd very much like to talk to my dad rather than my mom.

"Dad," I say into the phone, once he's picked up.

"Hey kiddo, haven't heard from you in awhile, what's up?"

"Would you mind coming over, I want to talk to you about something," I hesitantly ask him.

"Talk?"

"Yeah."

"You want to talk to me?"

"Yeah."

"You want to talk to me and not your mother?"

"Yes, dad!" I almost yell in irritating.

"Wow…I'll…be there in a second. Oh, but…where do you and Kyle live anyway?"

I'm surprised for a second before I realize that him asking shouldn't have surprised me at all. He's never been here before, neither has my mom. When we hang up I sit and wait for him to show up, which he's pretty fast in doing, considering I'm pretty sure that he was at work.

It's nice to know he didn't even question leaving his job in the middle of it to come over here. Granted, I wouldn't normally ask that of him.

"So," he says once he's here and seated in my living room. "Nice place you guys got, the kitchens incredible."

I nod, not really listening to him. Things are awkward for my dad. He knows I don't ask him for much of anything, and he knows that if I normally had a problem that I would go to mom, so I'll let him blabber until he gets comfortable enough.

"And I like the window," he adds looking out over our view.

"Hey dad?" I ask suddenly, wanting to get down to it. Token and Craig will be here in a few short hours. We're going early to the game to join in on tailgate celebrations, so I really just want to get this out. I'm tired of having thoughts that only beat around the bush.

"What is it?"

Does he sound nervous? I chuckle a little bit, only he would be nervous about having a talk with his almost twenty year old son. "You and Kyle's dad used to be good friends right?"

He clearly was not expecting that, "uhh…we still are."

Now I was not expecting that, "you are, even after the Broflovski's moved?"

"Well sure, I mean just because your friend moves away doesn't mean the friendship has to change. That's up to the people involved."

"But," I eye him confused. "You didn't tell me you guys still talked."

My dad shrugs his shoulders, "I didn't want to upset you. I know you and Kyle stopped talking for whatever reason. It's just the same as Gerald not telling Kyle."

I'm almost a little mad, but I push it aside. It doesn't change what I wanted to ask, and it doesn't really affect me now.

"Fine, you guys still are friends…I was wondering…" I trail off. "Umm, if you were ever…jealous of mom for being friends with Kyle's dad."

I watch as my dad's head slowly tilts to the side as if he doesn't understand me, "Stan…what…are you talking about? Your mom and Gerald weren't ever more than acquaintances really."

Fuck. I knew I should have asked my mom instead.

"Pretend they were."

"Oh," he's still looking a little lost, but his face changes to a more thoughtful look. "Well since your mom and I are married, I think that'd be natural of me."

"So it's okay to be jealous of Be- I mean mom for spending so much time with Mr. Broflovski?"

"…you're losing me again."

"Damn you dad," I mutter. "Bebe and Kyle are really good friends, and I don't like that they are. In fact I don't like the idea of anyone being closer to Kyle than I am. What would you say that is? I don't like Bebe and Kyle, Audi and Kyle, or Craig and Kyle, I just…"

He blinks a few times quickly, "Who's Audi?"

"Never mind!"

"Stan…do you-"

"I don't _know _why I kissed him alright?!" I snap at him.

Staring at my father's bug eyed expression, I allow what I said to him seep in. Oh. God. If there was one thing I could have been happy with, it was not telling my dad about that.

"…I was going to ask do you really think it's a good idea to get married if Bebe isn't even the one on your mind, but…"

I press a hand to my forehead, and close my eyes. It really is all too much. I listen as my dad stands up, and grabs his jacket. I feel as he passes, and hesitates beside me. I tense slightly when he touches my shoulder, but I relax just as fast. He squeezes it before giving it a few pats.

"I don't think I can offer you the advice your mom would but…you know Stan, sometimes it's better to act, rather then sitting around thinking about things all day." I drop my hand and slowly reopen my eyes to look at him. "Sitting around thinking is what chicks do," he adds last minute.

I snort out a laugh, shaking my head and he pats my shoulder again, "you kids have fun at the basketball game, you hear?"

"Sure thing," I manage out and watch as he leaves.

Act…and then think? I love my dad, but I wonder how much I should take that advice to heart.

-

"He's late," I say impatiently as I look around the parking lot. It's packed but luckily for Kyle he has such good friends. Craig, Token, Bebe, and I are standing in probably the only remaining free parking spot waiting around for Kyle to come take it. The tailgate parties are long over and we've already been honked at, cursed at, spit at, and people have even gone so far as to throw shit at us. It's taken a lot of devotion, and holding down, on Craig's part, not to go after some people.

Kyle better be grateful for this.

And I know he will be because that's the kind of guy that he is.

To say I didn't have fun at the tailgate would be a lie. To say the Nuggets and the parties were all that occupied my thoughts would also be one. I can't get what my dad said out of my head. That I should act first, and think later. So while I joined in on talking with other fans, and hyping each other up for the big game, I still tended to be quieter than any fan who has tickets to this game should be.

The only one who noticed was Bebe. She never said anything to me, but I caught her staring at me, during the times my thoughts would drift from what was happening directly around me.

And only Craig came close enough to figuring out what was on my mind. "Aww Staney, you gotta enjoy the tailgate party, even with Kyle on his date. He'd want you to have a good time," he had said at one point, as he slung his arm around my shoulders.

I only pushed them off, and muttered that the stupid fucker better stop calling me Staney before I beat him to hell for it. He had laughed it off, as usual, and went on his way.

So now, tailgates over, parking is filling, game is going to start in a half hour, and Kyle's car isn't anywhere to be seen.

"He'll be here," Craig says patting my back and then turning to give some guy the finger. "We're not moving so fuck off asshole!" He yells to the side of me.

The asshole in question says something back and Craig starts to stomp over to his car, ready to start a fight when Token grabs a hold of his collar.

"Calm down will you?" He says yanking Craig back down. "You'd be pissed too if you saw a group of people holding what's probably the only free spot available not a mile away from, what's going to be, the Nuggets game of the century."

"Yeah, but they don't have to be complete fucking dicks about it," he mutters back. "Kyle better have gotten laid for us to have to deal with this shit…"

"Kyle wouldn't sleep with a girl on the first date," Bebe pipes up after she's scanned the area, like the rest of us for the nth amount of times.

"Kyle is a living, breathing, healthy guy, and while I'm sure he has morals, if this Audi asked for it, I doubt he'd reject it," Craig laughs.

"Shut up Craig," I glare at him. "Kyle _wouldn't _sleep with some girl on the first date. We're not all you."

"You can stop bickering, and we can move, I think I see his car," Token interrupts before Craig can retort.

We all turn our heads and indeed coming straight for us is Kyle's white car. At seeing us, I watch him burst out laughing as we move and he pulls into the spot. We all choose to ignore the stares of death we're getting from people who have wanted Kyle's saved spot and instead choose to focus on him

He's changed clothes, like he said he would, and…into jeans and a Nuggets jersey. I've never seen him dressed so casually. Other than that he's beaming and grinning ear to ear. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and as Craig, Bebe, and Token start firing questions on him about his date with Audi, I stay more to the background.

I can't help it. He looks so damn…happy.

"You got laid didn't you?" Craig asks automatically, and I cringe at his question.

Kyle only laughs and locks his car up.

"Do you have to be so crude?" Bebe says in slight disgust. "Is she anything like her friendsKyle?" She asks him.

He laughs. Again.

Token narrows his eyes, "do you plan to tell us what happened?"

"Ah guys not now with the game less than thirty minutes away. I drove through hours of traffic, and cheering on the roads, and people chanting songs, that the only thing I'm ready to do is get in that stadium and see my favorite team wipe the floor with San Antonio."

That seems to satisfy both Craig and Token. Bebe looks curiously at him but doesn't press the matter. The group of us starts walking through the parking lot, and as they continue to talk I rummage in my wallet for the tickets.

"How was the tailgate party?" I hear Kyle ask, and automatically Craig and Bebe fight to answer that question.

I listen silently as everyone talks about a the few usual things that happens at them, and eventually Craig and Token fall into an argument over a small detail, with Bebe shaking her head at their idiocy.

"I'm actually getting really excited," she says discreetly to Kyle.

"Well, that's a good thing Bebe," he smiles back at her. "And you should be excited, since we're lucky to get seats to this game, especially with the awesome seats that we have. Make sure to sit by me and I can be there to make sure you understand what's going on throughout the game okay?"

"Thanks!"

They continue to chat, and Craig and Token continue to argue and I continue to…brood. I'm brooding. I want to know what happened with Kyle's date, I want to know why he seemed so ecstatic, but I know this isn't the time to ask. Instead I push my questions away for a later time and plaster on a smile. I then sneak my way between Bebe and Kyle, much to both their surprise, and drape one arm around Bebe's shoulders, and the other around Kyle's.

"Or," I say, my eyes on Bebe. "You could sit next to me, and I'll explain the game to you." I smile at her, "I am curious about your sudden interest in basketball Bebe."

Oddly I watch her blush and look away. That…was different. It wasn't her usual type blush she gives me when I tease her it was the: I'm-hiding-something blush of hers. I glance at Kyle curiously and see that he's averted his eyes as well. Looking back and forth at them I start to get nervous. I drop my hands back to my own side.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" I growl out lowly so as not to gather Craig and Token's attention. "I meant to ask about this earlier," I continue, thinking back to a few days ago when I saw them jump in surprise at thinking I wouldn't be in the apartment. "But what are you two doing behind my back?"

"Oh, Kyle and I, just…it's not important right now."

I can feel my eyes blaze as I stare at her, "no. I've decided it is. Bebe, you and Kyle, what are you two up to?"

"Bebe," Kyle begins and I whip my head back over to him. "It's not a big deal, just tell him."

"But I didn't want…" She trails off and meets my eye. "I wanted it to be a surprise," she says quietly.

"A surprise?"

"Kyle, was teaching me how to play basketball. I know how much you enjoy it, and after that last fight of ours I thought we could use more things to bond over…I was going to tell you after I had gotten better…but, I'm still not very good. He's been really patient with me though."

For the first time in awhile I feel something inside me break, and I know what it is, and I know why. Looking down at Bebe I smile gently and lean down to gather her in my arms as tightly as I can. She stands awkward in them for awhile, as she's probably a little unsure about my response, before returning my embrace.

"Thank you Bee," I say softly, pulling back and looking into her matching blue eyes.

Sometimes I've wondered if that's why I've always thought we'd go well together, because we have the same kind of eyes. She grins at me, and as we pull away I take a hold of her hand. I can feel Kyle's eyes on us and I see as Craig and Token stare openly at us as well. Craig rolls his eyes before going back to paying attention to where he's walking, but Token's gaze lingers a bit longer until his attention is grabbed by something Craig mentions.

"You're welcome honey," Bebe says brightly.

I squeeze her hand before joining the others in line to hand our tickets over so that we can enter the stadium.

"Jesus Christ it's packed," I hear Kyle say.

"Of course it is!" Craig responds as he slaps Kyle's back. "It's going to be _the _Nuggets game, of Nuggets games! If we win tonight we're heading for the finals!"

Even given the circumstances, what I was feeling earlier, what I _am _feeling now, it's impossible to not get excited. Not with the people around us decked out in light blue and yellow, Nuggets colors. But you can smell the sneakers, and the wood polish, and I can see my favorite teams' coaches talking amongst themselves. It's impossible to not feel the hype in the air. It's way too hard not to lose myself in it.

We quickly find our seats before Kyle, Token, and Craig head off to get some snacks and some much needed Nuggets memorabilia, noisemakers, and those giant foam hands. Bebe and I stay standing in our seats and I watch as she eyes the arena, almost in awe. It's kind of cute the way her mouth is hanging open slightly; you'd think she'd never been in a stadium before.

"You're drooling Bee," I tell her teasingly and watch as she shuts her mouth and blushes, before laughing at herself.

"I can't help it! It's nothing but a sea of light blue and yellow, and look at that guy over there, see him?" She points to our left.

I glance over at the guy who's wearing nothing but too tight yellow shorts. Other than that his body's been painted in the team colors and he's sporting a giant bright yellow wig to match. He's already yelling at the top of his lungs and the people around him are only laughing and patting him on the back, encouraging his fan crazed behavior.

"Trust me, that's nothing," I respond grinning at her. "Look at that group over there," I nod my head in the direction of a group of people behind Bebe. She looks, gasps and snaps her head back over to me.

"Can they do that?"

I shrug innocently.

"Won't they get kicked out…or arrested?"

"We're in Nuggets territory, with the cops being hardcore fans like the rest of us. The teams been in a slump for years, I have a feeling they'll pretend they didn't see them."

"But," she starts and quickly stops as she laughs. "I'm glad I'm here."

The guys return soon after, just as the game is about to start. I shake my head, snorting at Craig. Looks like he bought half of the team store. He left wearing nothing but his jeans and a normal tee, now he has a jersey, a cap, arm bands, the works. Not that Token and Kyle look any different. They grin as the make their way to their seats.

"Bebe I got you a few things," Kyle says as he places himself on the other side of her. He hands her a girls Nuggets tee, a visor, and some pompoms. "You were starting to look ridiculously out of place in red," he says and she laughs heartily accepting the gifts, and pulling the new tee over her red tank top.

"Thanks! I was starting to feel a little naked in here."

Before any of us can say another word a loud roaring cheer rings out and our attention is diverted to the court, where it looks like the game is finally about to start.

**Kyle**

"See _that's _an example of a finger roll," I say to Bebe, a little louder than usual given the cheering around us.

She nods to show that she understands, while keeping her eyes on the game. She's been paying a lot of attention and I'm not sure if it's because she's trying to study the game I've been teaching her about, or if its because that like the rest of us she doesn't want to miss a single moment. This is definitely the sort of game you tell your grandchildren about.

The Nuggets and the Spurs have been head to head for already an hour now. Every time one team makes a point, the other makes it. When one fouls and gets free throws, the other does the same. There's been no separation in points that isn't quickly returned. It's insanity, and the crowd is eating it up! I've never been so excited in my life, and I rarely see thousands of people feeling exactly the same. It's still anyone's game and it's been driving everyone crazy.

"Fuck, we need a three pointer!" I hear Craig holler to Token, even though they're sitting right next to each other.

"Tell me about it, and if Iverson doesn't start scoring more of those points he's known for I'm gonna scream," Token yells back.

"He's already scored twelve alone, give the guy a break. He and Anthony can't carry the whole goddamn team you know," Stan adds and the three of them start arguing, while watching the game, about the players and what they ought to be doing to put the team ahead.

I look over at Stan, surprised that he said anything. While he's been involved in the game, cheering and all that, he's still been rather quiet for someone at a game that could put our team in the final games. Not that I've been any better.

Half of his attention has been on Bebe. He's been looking fondly at her, as she takes in the game, clearly enjoying it. It's like he's proud of her, but it's not a real shock I guess. She did tell him about our basketball meetings and I can tell he was touched by it, if his reaction was anything to go by.

But touched or not, I didn't image it'd get this sort of reaction from him. Every so often his attention falls on Bebe and he simply stares at her, with an expression I can't begin to read. If she's noticed, she hasn't said anything and I know Token and Craig have been oblivious.

The only reason that I've noticed is obvious. I've been staring at him. If anyone saw me and asked me about it, and if I told them about my date I had with Audi they'd understand. But no one does, so I wonder how this looks. Me staring at Stan, who's staring at the girl he loves, his fiancée.

I snort internally; what a joke of a statement. I know exactly what this looks like.

Suddenly jumping at the sound of a buzzer, my head whips back to the court and I see it's the end of the quarter. The crowds in a frenzy, and no wonder. I glance at the scoreboard. We're still tied with the San Antonio Spurs. Damn.

Eyeing the players and the other team I notice from my side vision as Stan rests a hand on Bebe's lower back and whispers something in her ear. She looks up at him and nods before standing, with Stan following.

"We're going to get refills, anyone want something?" He asks.

"Pepsi," Craig says automatically with his eyes staying glued to the court.

"Dr. Pepper," Token answers. "And a bag of chips, anything is fine," he says handing Stan a few bills, frowning when he realizes he'll be handing over money for Craig who hasn't made a move toward his own wallet.

"Kyle?" I snap out of my slight daze and look at Stan who called my name.

At meeting his eye I feel my stomach lurch.

Something isn't right.

"Kyle?" He says my name again and I shake my head, realizing that I'm starting to get weird concerned stares from him, Bebe, and even Token.

"J-Just, the usual…" I stutter out slightly.

"Root beer?" He questions confirming as he raises an eyebrow at me. I nod my head and he turns to look at Bebe. "Okay, a Pepsi, a Dr. Pepper, and a root beer for you guys, come on Bebe before it gets too far into the next quarter."

"Right," she says and I watch as they walk off, listening to the sound of them as they disappear into the thousands of voices around us.

"How do you like the game so far?" I hear Stan ask, though I can't hear Bebe's reply.

Fifteen minutes later the new quarter is well underway and Stan and Bebe still aren't back. Though that's not unexpected, since I'm sure the line is long. I still feel like something wasn't right about Stan's look, and that his attitude all night hasn't been how he usually acts, but at the same time my brain and heart are torn. Because it looks like the Nuggets are about to take the lead.

Craig, Token, and I have gathered to stand side by side, and like the rest of the arena it seems we're all leaning closer as Iverson gets closer and closer to the basket. He's almost wide open and Token about cuts off my circulation as he grabs hold of my wrist in anticipation.

"Come on, go!" I hear Craig yell, and it's like a signal for every fan in this arena.

"Go, go, go!" Everyone chants to together and like the rest I watch in awe as I realize, and as everyone else realizes, Iverson included, that no one is guarding the three point line.

"I-ver-son! I-ver-son!" Everyone changes the chant, and it seems the Spurs have realized their middle school level mistake and before a player can rush over to stop him he's already halted at the three point line and is shooting for the basket.

Token releases my arm suddenly in favor of grabbing a hold of Craig and me in an aggressive hug as the shot goes right through the hoop in a perfect air ball.

The Nuggets are ahead by two points.

I can barely hear myself think. All I can feel is the raw excitement oozing from myself, and everyone around me. Eyeing the crowd I can see that reactions are similar. There isn't a single person sitting, and I'm so off the wall excited that the thought that Stan isn't seeing this flashes through my mind for only the briefest of seconds.

**Stan**

I glance over at Kyle, who like Craig and Token, is on his feet cheering and hollering at the top of his lungs as they break apart from one of those extreme hugs that makes me chuckle, but just lightly. He yells loudly like a moron and gives Token a hard high five before they both go back to yelling over the incredible play they had just witnessed after a three pointer had been made.

It didn't take as long as I had thought for Bebe and I to order the drinks. It seems most people couldn't bear the thought of leaving their seats for even a second. Not that I'm at all surprised. With the way the game is fairing that saying how every second counts, rings true.

And even so I find myself being a little bit more interested in Kyle's reactions to the game, rather than the game itself. I think at realizing he's being stared at his eyes start to scan the area. They meet mine and he grins pointing toward the court. "Did you see that incredible play?!" He yells out against the crowd in excitement.

I smile back weakly and shake my head. I only caught the last part of it. He frowns, realizing something isn't quite right but I wave my hand at him and gesture back to the court, where a new play is about it start. He looks over at the court before casting me one last glance. His attention gets averted when I see Token mutter something to him and I watch as they fall into a conversation.

I've probably spent a big portion of this game thinking this all over. I know my dad said to act and think later, but that's never been me. Not exactly anyway. I'll take his advice, but in a slightly different way.

It's not to say that I wasn't expecting this. I think deep down I was, I just kept ignoring it and shrugging it off. Pretending that what was happening with how I felt wasn't real, it didn't make sense to be real. Or so I thought at the time.

Because honestly, I do love Bebe.

I don't care what anyone says, and I don't care what happens after all this. I do love her…but in the way a person loves the person they _thought _they would spend the rest of their life with.

The couple that has been together since as long as they can remember; who get married, and then realize at some point it's not going to work. It's not the bitter kind of couple that realizes this. It's the ones that laugh or maybe cry and say, "Hey we tried, and it didn't work out, but nevertheless I still love you."

It's in that kind of way, and I know she'll eventually come to the same conclusion I have. I just wonder how long it'll take, and I hope I'm still alive and well when she reaches it.

"Here you go honey," Bebe pipes up. I look down at her small frame and gently take two of the pops she's holding out for me.

"Bebe I want to cancel the wedding," I say softly.

It comes out so suddenly for her that Bebe's face is a mixture of shock, anger, but mostly confusion.

"You want to hold it off longer?" She asks annoyed, stepping closer to me to block out the noise of the crowd.

I know I shouldn't say anything more. I should wait till we're at home, alone, where we can really talk. Not at a basketball game with thousands of people, but my mouth keeps on talking and at this point I'm acting rather than thinking of the consequences. I know this will hurt her, but for some reason I can't keep it in another second. She has to know what I've been thinking about for the better part of today.

"I don't want to have it at all…" I pause to reflect if this is how I _really_ feel. There is no fucking way I could go back from this. But goddamn, this _is _how I feel. "Bebe, I don't know when things changed exactly but, forgive me…I don't love you anymore, at least not the way I should."

**-FG**

**AN: **Haillexi has been wonderful enough to do TWO MORE fanarts for this story in this month that I haven't updated! Go forth and rejoice in the warmth of artistic talent! Oh, maybe you could review first, that would be nice :)

Don't worry, and don't hate on me, or Stan. Chapter 32 will be up shortly and it's all Kyle.


	32. Kyle VII

**AN: **It'd be cool to take complete credit for Bebe's initial reaction, but I actually got the idea from witnessing such a scene at Target, of all places. I'm updating rather early simply because you're all too amazing for me to withhold a completed chapter.

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle**

"STANEY GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE YOU'RE MISSING THE WHOLE GODDAMN GAME!" Craig yells, his head is slightly turned so he can yell behind him, but his eyes are on the game.

When there is no automatic, "don't call me Staney you stupid fucker!" Craig, Token and I turn our heads to where Stan is waiting for Bebe. Our heads turn just in time to see Bebe deliver a hard slap across his face, causing us all to jump in shock.

"What the fuck did he do now…?" Token mutters as we watch Bebe's face redden.

I watch confused as Stan's face doesn't change. He obviously just told her something big, and she obviously did not like it. But his face is blank as he stares down at Bebe. The three of us jump again when Bebe slaps his face again. And we continue to stare as she slaps him again, and again, and again, continuing to do so as tears start to fall down her red cheeks.

"…dude, maybe you should get down there," Craig mutters as he watches and nudges me.

"Me?!" I round on him.

"He's your roommate and I'm not getting involved in anything where Bebe can't stop slapping her fiancée."

I look at Token for help but his eyes are avoiding mine as he pretends to be watching the game. I sigh and make my way through the rows, my eyes glued to where Stan and Bebe are. They're gathering a bit of attention and my eyes scrunch together in confusion at Stan's continuous blank face. It's like he's not even feeling the slaps, which is bullshit considering his cheek is flaming red.

Getting within a few feet of the couple I watch surprised as Stan suddenly moves with quick speed and grabs Bebe's hand before she can slap him again. He quickly grabs her other hand when she attempts to hit him again with that one.

"Okay Bebe that's enough," I hear him mutter gently.

I clear my throat awkwardly and they both turn to look at me, "umm." I state.

Bebe covers her hand with her mouth before turning on her heel and walking quickly toward the stairs to leave the arena.

"Um," I say again looking at Stan. He eyes me closely, before looking over me and toward where Craig and Token are. I glance back over at them and frown when I see them staring in our direction before they whip their heads back to the court. "Uh," I try again and watch astonished as Stan smiles at me.

"Stop trying to talk." He starts to walk past me to head for the rows, "oh." He says stopping to look at me. "Could you drive Bebe home? I don't think she's in the best condition to drive herself, and then maybe call her mom over?"

…what?

I find myself nodding and Stan nods a smile of appreciation before starting to work his way through the cheering people, all oblivious to what just happened around them.

"Wait!" I call out, just as I reach the stairs. I see Stan turn back to face me waiting for my question. "What happened? Why did you let her…?" My last question hangs incomplete but he knows what I mean to ask.

He glances at the game before looking at me to answer. "I told her the wedding was off because I didn't love her the right way anymore."

He must see my absolute shock.

"I've been thinking about it all day. Thanks for driving her Kyle, I owe you one." He says as he continues to make his way through the crowd before he takes his spot next to where I would have been had I not been over here, heading for the parking lot. I watch as Craig grasps his elbow, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he looks back and forth at Stan and me.

Stan mutters something I can't begin to hear, glances at me, and mutters something more before focusing his attention on the game I no longer have any interest in.

Slowly making my way out to the parking lot I'm not entirely surprised to see Bebe standing silently next to Stan's car. It appears that she hasn't unlocked the door, it looks like she was waiting.

"Bebe," I say softly.

Her body tenses and she slowly turns to face me. She smirks in the dark and looks down, "I thought for sure you'd be Stan…but I guess I'm not surprised to see you…take me home?" She makes it into a question and I nod, gesturing her toward my car. I open the door for her and she looks at me, nodding in thanks before sitting down.

Driving I keep my eyes forward and don't attempt to look in her direction. Bebe is practically my best friend here, I'd go as far to say as she _is _my best friend here. I should say something to her, something that might ease whatever she's feeling right now, but I have no idea what could possibly do such a thing. When I stop the car outside the apartment she doesn't move, but she doesn't turn in my direction either.

After a long while in silence she finally speaks up, "you heard what he said to me?"

"Yeah."

She silent for another long moment, "is there someone else?"

Is that what she thinks? That Stan's cheating on her with another?

"No," I tell her quietly and she turns to eye me carefully.

"Then why would he say that Kyle? It's completely out of the blue…a few days ago I finally got him to agree on the appetizers for the reception, you were there. Why would he, the following few days decide he doesn't want to marry me and decide he doesn't love me anymore?"

I don't think she really wants me to answer her questions. I don't know the answers anyway. I'm thinking the same as her, only yesterday he had his usual dinner with her and he seemed happy about it.

"You're around him the most Kyle," she continues. "You haven't seen him with anyone?"

"No Bebe, no one I would suspect."

"Then I don't understand," she whispers. Bebe opens her door and steps out. I do the same, putting the car on park but leaving the engine running. She starts to silently walk up the steps toward her second story apartment; I watch her all of the way and wonder at her as she turns once she reaches the top. "He probably has the wedding jitters. He'll come around…right Kyle?"

I can only offer her a weak smile in response.

"You'll talk to him for me won't you? Tell him I still love him and that if he wants we can wait a few years, like he originally wanted. There's no real rush."

"…sure Bebe. I can tell him that," I say to her and she nods before walking into the apartment. Pulling out my cell as I stare at where she once stood and I dial the Stevens' number.

"Hello?" Comes Mrs. Stevens cheery voice.

"Hi Mrs. Stevens it's Kyle."

"Kyle! How are you sweetie, oh, aren't you all supposed to be at the basketball game? We're watching it right now its getting rather excit-"

"Mrs. Stevens could you come over to Bebe's? I think…" I pause from interrupting her. "She needs you right now I think."

"…what's wrong?" She suddenly asks. I cringe at that mother's intuition.

"You should probably just come over. I should go, bye Mrs. Stevens," I say and end the brief call.

I'm doing the dirty work, I can't help but think as I climb back into the car and drive off. Maybe I should have waited until Mrs. Stevens actually arrived…but no, I don't want to be around for that. Answering questions that I don't know the answers too. Once I'm back on the road I'm undecided of where to go. I guess I ought to head back to the game, but to watch a game after all this?

…but Stan is.

Why _is _he?! The thought of it starts to anger me. He suddenly dumps this news on Bebe and then has me clean it up. I drive her home, I call her mother. Why am _I_ doing this?

When I get back to the game, the crowd is in a frenzy. The cheering is deafening, and the teams colors are blurring my vision, but I find my way back to where the guys are and stumble my way through the rowdy crowd. Stan is the first to see me approach and he gives me a pure smile.

I frown at it. How can he smile after what he just did? Does he have no heart, no morals anymore? I allow him to help pull me to my seat beside him and I brush off Token's welcome back grin, and Craig's pat as they go back to watching the game. Stan's smile falls as I continue to stare at him with an almost hatred.

He rests on hand on my shoulder and gives it a small squeeze, causing my frown to melt.

"Thanks Kyle," he says to me and it's like he never did anything wrong. My anger is gone and he even has the audacity to smile again.

"Why here? Why now?" I ask him. I don't care if we're missing the year's game, if I have to be the one to do his dirty laundry I want to know why.

To my disbelief he shrugs and turns his head back to the game, "Because I needed to get it over with. I didn't really want to tell her here, I should have waited. I know I should have waited. I should have taken her home and I should be with her right now, trying to explain my actions and why I said what I said. I know that. But…" he looks back at me. "It's the game of the year, and I promised you we'd see it together."

"…you promised Bebe you'd marry her when you gave her that ring."

"Yeah," he sighs out. "But are you convinced now?"

I raise my eyebrow in confusion, "convinced about what?"

"About how close of friends I want us to be? I wouldn't let just anyone drive Bebe home after the blow I gave her. I could have asked Craig or Token."

I widen my eyes at him before casting my gaze on the basketball game, barely hearing the erupting cheer as a three pointer is made and as people jump and hug around me. "That's a horrible way of trying to convince me," I mutter to him. "Especially when I knew it already."

I hear him smirk and twist my head toward him. The anger that was starting to rebuild at the sound of his smirk quickly disintegrates when I see his face. He's smirking and he's smiling but there's still a remorseful shadow on his face that I can't ignore.

"Maybe, probably…and I do feel bad about it. And you know," he says tilting his head slightly as he smiles at Craig who had grinned over at him before turning his head back to the game, "I think I could have been happy with Bebe. I could have led a really content life with her. It wouldn't have had a lot of problems or really big hurdles, but would it have been worth it if I didn't love her anymore? It'd be like living with a roommate, and she deserves better than that…don't you think?"

"…she told me to tell you that she still loves you, and that she's willing to wait a few years before you two get married, like you originally wanted."

Stan looks thoughtfully at what I said to him, "did she really say that?" He asks and I nod at him.

"Nah," he says softly. "My minds made up."

"But, you and Bebe are-"

"Since when did you become such an advocate for Bebe and me to stay together?" Stan asks raising an eyebrow curiously at me.

I open my mouth to speak before hesitating, "she loves you."

Stan's cool demeanor fades, "I know." He states softly, "I know."

The game ends 117 – 111. The Nuggets are going to the finals.

The crowd is in ecstasy as we all leave the stadium. I can hear person and after person, group after group repeat certain plays, and laughing and cheering. We're finally going to the final games after such a long slump.

Goddamn Stan for ruining this historical moment for me. Though, as I glance over at him, he's cheerfully engaging in replay's with Token and Craig, as if everything is well in the world. When I hear Token ask what happened with Bebe, I watch as Stan only shrugs it off by saying she no longer felt like watching the game and decided to go home. I could kill him. Seeming to realize that I am not enjoying the festivities of reliving the game Token nudges me.

"What's up?" He asks me.

I wonder if I should tell him. If I should tell Token that the other guy he is walking next to is no longer tied, that he's a single man. "Nothing," I mutter to Token.

It doesn't look like he believes me, but then again I wouldn't believe my own half assed lie. I'm trying to figure out why this upsets me so much. Obviously part of the reason is because I love Bebe, she's my best friend here, and I don't like seeing friends hurt. Yet, I know that's not the major reason…

"We need to go celebrate!" Craig's voice suddenly exclaims. "It'd be blasphemous if we didn't!"

"I'm in," Token agrees after casting me a look.

"Me too," Stan adds.

"What?!" I yell looking at him. "You want to go party when Bebe is at her apartment…" I trail off disgusted. "Do what you want, I'm going home."

Before he, Token, or Craig can say anything to me I hop in my car and drive off. I don't want any part in a celebration party.

By the time I get home, I'm still pissed beyond reason and as I pass Stan's bedroom I glare at it. Walking into my own room I fall back onto my bed and frown at the ceiling. Maybe I should call Bebe. I pull out my cell phone and cradle at it, thinking it over. Maybe not. If she's up to talking I'm sure it's not me she would want to talk to at the moment.

"What in the hell is going through your head right now Stan?" I mutter to my empty room.

A knock on the front door causes me to sit up in my bed and simply look toward where the front door would be if I could see it. I sit in silence, waiting. The knocker knocks again, and I fall back onto my bed. I don't feel like talking to anyone right now, and I can't imagine who it would be; only Mr. Zanadaci and Bebe come to our apartment.

…Bebe.

I jolt up and race for the front door yanking it open.

"Bebe," I breathe out. "Shouldn't you be at – isn't your mom…Did you drive – Stan isn't actually-" I stop with my unfinished questions and look at her.

Given the circumstances she looks incredible. Well poised, and she's looking right me without a tear in sight.

"Can I come in?" She asks clear as day and I nod numbly, widening the door so she can walk past me. I close the door silently and turn to look at her. She's looking around the apartment, and I watch as she settles herself down on our couch.

Bebe eyes one of our walls for so long in silence that I'm about to start asking questions, but she beats me to it.

"You know," she starts, still eyeing the wall. "I always meant to ask you what happened to that black vase you and Stan used to have."

I approach her slowly and lower myself on the other end of the couch, "it broke…Stan," I eye her but she doesn't even flinch, "knocked it over, on purpose actually."

"On purpose?" She questions.

I nod my head, "I…never got the details, but I'm pretty sure he just pushed it over."

"I'll bet he did it with a calm look on his face," she responds dully. "He only gets that look when he's at his most serious, when he's not joking…I barely recognize that look when it's on him. He doesn't look anything like himself when he has it on."

Nodding I say nothing and let her talk, only having a vague idea where she might be taking this.

"He had it when you left South Park and he realized you weren't coming back, he had it when Wendy left, when everyone learned Jimbo lost Ned, he had it when he told me Kenny had died and…he had it when he said he didn't love me anymore."

I bite my lip as I look at her. I'm still not sure what to say, but she doesn't seem like she really wants my advice anyway. Looking at her I wonder how she got here. If she drove herself, or if she walked. And I wonder where her mother is, she must be worried, or maybe Bebe told her mom she was coming over here.

Then I can't help but think, if she intended to come here that how did she know Stan wouldn't be here? His car isn't in the parking lot, but would she have noticed that in her condition? Did she come here to talk to Stan?

"Hey," I start, and stop when she suddenly lays down across the couch, dropping her head onto my lap. Looking down at her, she keeps her eyes on the wall and I tentatively rest one hand over her blonde hair, while keeping the other to my side.

"I couldn't stay there at my apartment with my mom," she starts talking again. "She kept asking me what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her. Especially when after awhile she got so worried that she wanted to call Stan up and have him leave the game to come get me. How could I tell my mom? She's been expecting grandchildren from Stan and I before we were even legal adults. I couldn't cry in front of her either and eventually I told her just to go, that I would be fine by myself."

I gently stroke her hair, listening intently.

"She left after awhile…but then I realized that without her there that I had nothing to distract myself with. So I thought of all the people I could go to. All my girlfriends, old mentors…but they would all be watching the game, and even if they weren't, I couldn't face them with what happened. Then I remembered you, and I came here. I hope you don't mind."

"'Course not," I mutter.

"I figured he wouldn't be here, and it looks like I was right," she says referring to Stan.

"Bebe I," she cuts me off before I can say anything.

"Tell me about your date with Audi."

I pause in petting her curls, "my…date?"

"Yeah," she mutters. "You looked so happy when you showed up at the game, something good must have happened between you two. _Did _you get laid, like Craig asked?"

Here I can't help but to laugh, just a little bit. "Did I really seem _that _pleased with myself?"

"Uh huh, so what's she like, is she like the other girls?"

I almost snort, "Not. At. All."

"Really?"

Shaking my head, I think over my first impression of Audi. "She looks like the girls though," I tell Bebe. "Same sort of looks, the kind of girl that spends a lot of time on her appearance…and it was funny because she talks just like Porscha."

"In that I'm-not-pretending-to-be-dumb-I-_am_-dumb way?"

I pull on a strand of Bebe's hair and she murmurs an unapologetic apology to me, "basically." I answer. "But then when we started talking…Bebe, I got confused."

Her head shifts on my lap before she replies, "What do you mean?"

"Her vocab is off the charts, the girl is a fucking genius. I think the girls must have mentioned to Audi that I went to Stanford, so she must have assumed I'd be able to keep up. She was surprised, and a little disappointed I think, when she realized that I couldn't. At least not completely.

"If she's so smart how come she hangs around those," Bebe catches herself before she insults the girls in front of me again, "with those friends of hers?"

"I had kinda been wondering the same thing. But I didn't ask of course, though she could tell I was itching to know, and she told me anyway. She said that while she used to be a Raisins Girl and that while she knows the other girls may not be high in the intelligent area, that they were still childhood friends."

"…but that doesn't exactly explain why you were so happy when you arrived at the arena tonight."

I shrug, "I was just happy that the date turned out okay. Audi and I've decided to keep in touch when I go back home, though we don't intend to have any sort of relationship beyond friendship. That and, I really was excited to see the game with Stan…and the rest of you. The Nuggets are my favorite team and I hadn't seen them in over 11 years. Why wouldn't I have been excited?"

I'm not lying to Bebe. What I told her was true. I was excited to see the Nuggets, and that may have been part of the reason for why I looked the way I did when I showed up at the arena.

I continue to tell Bebe about my date with Audi, though I don't exactly expand on the big instances, and luckily she doesn't ask. Most likely because I feel at a point she stopped listening. When I stopped talking, having realized she wasn't paying attention she spoke up and told me to keep going.

She simply wants the sound of talking. I guess that's helping her, though I'm not sure how.

I do tell Bebe all there is to know about the smaller incidents regarding my time with Audi. I include the unimportant details like the fact that our waiter had forgotten to give us both forks, and that even though we had reservations we still had to wait five minutes for our table. She gets told all the minuscule details, yet I avoid telling her about Audi's appearance, my reaction, and my call to Mercedes. I'm not sure how she would take it, especially since I'm still coming to terms with how I took it.

She's in pain right now, I think, and while she's dealing with it in a way that probably isn't the usual way of dealing with pain, I don't want to bring up Stan unless she does.

Because I don't think anything in my life has surprised me as much as Audi.

If she had been born male, correction, she _has _been born male, and that male counterpart is my old best friend. My first reaction was complete and utter silence. I could only gawk. I initially couldn't get over her looks, even by Raisins standards, she's extremely striking. Not hot, not gorgeous, just very, very, striking. After that was when I made the connection with her and Stan. Then it was a rush of…feelings. I gawked, blushed, frowned, bit my tongue, blushed again, and then she intervened by asking if I was alright.

Throughout the entire night it was difficult for me to get past her appearance, but when our dinner was served I did take the time to steal away to the "bathroom". Actually I flipped out my cell phone and called Mercedes.

Maybe not so surprisingly, she seemed to be expecting me. She pleasantly asked how my date was and I realized that I didn't know _what _I was calling her for, or what I planned to ask her. At my silence she giggled into the phone and said, fucking hell, I'll never forget what she said:

_I know she's not _exactly _what you were looking for, but she's not bad right? Be nice to Audi cutie, and be sure to give me all the details when I see you next!_

She hung up after that, and I was left stunned at what she had said. I returned to Audi and we had a good date in each other's company. I didn't even notice at the time how easy it was to talk to her, like we were old friends, like I was talking to Stan himself…

'Luckily for me,' I had thought as I was dropping Audi off, '_and_ Bebe who I would never want to hurt, _and_ Stan who would probably barely understand…that Bebe and Stan would be happily married in a few months.' I would never wreck anything, or hurt anyone like I had hurt Stan before, and things could go on between us, and we could be the friends we were when we were nine.

Or that's what I thought. When I was telling myself that, I hadn't imagined that at the end of the day that Stan would decide he no longer loved Bebe, and that their wedding would be cancelled.

That. Ruined. Everything.

"Kyle?" Bebe pipes up quietly.

"Hm?" I ask, looking down at her and shaking my thoughts away.

"Do you think he'll change his mind, Stan I mean?"

I think for a moment before leaning down and kissing her forehead in the friendliest of ways. After all, lying on my lap is my new best friend, no matter the recent hostile feelings I had toward her.

"I hope so Bee," I respond with an utmost amount of sincerity.

I've never been one to disregard feelings, I've always kinda worn mine on my sleeve a little. Even when I was a kid if something upset me, I let it out. I swore, or fought, or cried, and that was that. It's a new change of pace for me to decide that what I feel would be better buried under masses of false pretenses. I think I'm doing everyone a favor, myself included.

"Kyle?" She says my name again, this time it's laced with more pain.

"What is it?"

"…If he doesn't change his mind…you'll still stand by me right? I mean," she rushes a little. "I don't want you to choose sides, but…if I need you, you'll be around right, like now?"

I stop petting her hair and my thoughts shift right to Audi, who easily transforms into Stan.

Bebe said that when Stan was at his most serious, when he wasn't joking he had a calm face. And I know what she means, because I've seen it. It was that face that thanked me for taking Bebe home, patted me on the shoulder with an odd sorrowful smile. Stan will need me too…Kenny would have wanted me to be there for him, but…

"Of course," I tell her softly, thinking of the question she posed at me and her tone of voice when asking. "Bebe…you wouldn't simply…let go, would you, of Stan?"

"Let go?" She questions back, her voice only above a whisper. "Does it seem like I'm just letting go? Because I feel like I've been fighting this whole time. But no Kyle, I'm not going to let go, because I love him and I know he still loves me. I just have to find out why he thinks he doesn't anymore. Not right now though...right now, I feel like feigning defeat for awhile. To give myself, and him…I guess, a break."

A break. Is that all she thinks Stan needs? A break from what she feels toward him? She doesn't sound particularly confident about it, and I don't say anything to reinforce her idea.

At times like this I wish I had someone to rely on. Bebe's relying on me, but I can't possible rely on her. I can't turn to Stan, obviously, or Craig, or Token, and as much as I adore Mercedes and the other girls, I can't turn to them either. My friends back home wouldn't understand as they haven't been involved, and at the idea of telling my mother, ugh, I cringe.

Times like this, all I can do is look out the big picture window that holds such a presence in this apartment and wish that I had gotten to meet the older Kenny.

I have a feeling he would be of a lot of help. This is probably the first time, since I've been back to South Park that I can honestly say that I really, really, _really_, miss Kenny McKormick. What I wouldn't give to ask, point blank, what he thinks of the situation, and to ask him what he thinks I ought to do.

Because things will be easier if this attraction I've realized I have for Stan is _only_ in passing.

**-FG **


	33. Stan VI

**AN: **Happy belated birthday SSwTE! On July 13, 2006 I started writing this story! Thanks to Lilchicky004 for pointing that out! I thought the anniversary date was in August! Short Stories (before this chapter was posted) is 186,000 words, has 369 reviews, has been hit over 25,000 times, is on 68 peoples favorites lists and is alerted 73 times…what's wrong with the other 5 of you? Just kidding! Jokes aside, thanks sooooo much everyone for being around with me for a year! This thing is like my child. Sometimes I want to kill it, but even then I still love it and frankly I don't want it to grow up and leave me. :( Anyway, ahaha, enough with my personal sob, read and enjoy!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan**

"Go Nuggetz!" Clyde cries out slightly drunk as bunch of others, myself excluded, cry it back joyfully.

"Yeah, yeah, get the fuck out of my house now," Token mutters. His celebratory good mood vanished after Butters knocked over his mother's prized glass statue of some famous painter. Now he's pushing people out of his house, drunk or not, and every time someone reaches the door they've turned back to face the others to cry out another cheer in favor of our team. Token is getting less and less amused.

I settle down in a chair and watch as Token finally gets everyone out, save myself and Craig who he's currently shoving out the door, much to his protest.

"Why the hell do _I _have to leave?! I'm your best fucking friend!"

"You're the asshole who pushed Butters into my mom's statue. She's going to fucking flip at me when she gets home from her business trip!" He yells at him.

Craig's face falls and he meets my eyes, "Stan-"

I frown at him, cutting off the nickname he was about to call me.

"Stan," he begins again. "Help me out here dude."

Token glares hard at me and I give him an easy smile back, "come on Token, let him stay, you know he's sorry."

"I am!" Craig pipes up.

"It's not his fault he's got no tact."

"What?!" Craig responds.

"And he is your best friend."

"Fine," Token agrees annoyed and stops his attempt at literally pushing Craig through his front door.

The guys find themselves some seating where I am and after going over the game one last time, and how incredible it was, and how lucky we were to be able to see it live, Craig shifts the conversation.

"What was up with Kyle by the way? He didn't come celebrate and he yelled at you for doing so, something about Bebe?"

"Yeah," I agree noncommittally.

I can see him and Token exchange looks, "dude…what's going on?"

I run a hand through my hair thinking how I want to tell them before deciding the best way is the straight forward way. "I broke things off with Bebe."

"Wh-what does that me-"

"Means I broke things off with her," I cut him off. "No more us, no more wedding."

"Stan," Token speaks up quietly after a stunned moment lingers between the three of us, "when did this happen?"

"I told her at the game."

"Is thatwhy she was slapping you so much?" Craig wonders as if it's all coming to him.

I nod.

"…that's not _too _shocking I guess," he mutters.

"It's a little sudden don't you think, and a little too matter-of-fact?" Token asks.

I hold back my glare, "you were the one who told me the whole town was against my engagement."

"Dude you _told _him?" Craig hisses at Token like I'm not sitting three feet away.

"He practically asked me."

"You know what Mrs. M said, that Stan has to make his own mistakes. We're not supposed to interfere unless the interfering was done by Kenny."

"What?!" I cry out. Craig looks confused, Token looks annoyed.

"I didn't tell him the details," Token mutters.

"My own mother said to make sure I make my own mistakes?" My own mom!

"Yeah, but never mind that, can we get back to you and Bebe as separate entities now?"

I slouch slightly, "there isn't anything more to say about it."

"How about," Token starts off like he's talking to a kindergartener. "What in the hell possessed you to break off with your girlfriend of over five years at a sold out Nuggets basketball game?" He drops the patronizing tone, "seriously Stan what the fuck were you thinking? You know I'm not Bebe's number one fan, you know I love you like a brother but even I have to admit that what you did goes in the asshole hall of fame."

I don't know what I can tell him. I'm aware that what I did wasn't one of my better moments.

"I acted before thinking too much on it," I say as my excuse.

"Did you talk to your dad?" Token's voice sounds mildly accusing, and when I nod he rolls his eyes and falls back against the chair he's in. "Act before thinking," he repeats sarcastically. "What are you going to do about Bebe? I mean, dude, we all know that while she might be a little shocked now, she's not going to just let you go."

"Please don't tell me that," I mutter. I tell him this because I know it, well I know it now. I didn't know it when I told her because I was…following my dad's stupid advice.

"Why did you just stand there and let her slap you so much?" Craig interjects and I turn to look at him. Before I can answer, Token interrupts annoyed.

"Because he deserved it, knew he deserved, and took his mild punishment like he should have," he looks over at me. "Isn't that right?"

"Pretty much," I answer.

"You know I can't imagine it happening to me, but to watch it…dude, it was so surreal, just watching her slap you over and over and over and over an-"

"I got it Craig," I cut in.

The two of them look at me in silence for awhile before Token stands up and disappears. Since it's such a huge place he doesn't return for a few minutes but when he does he tosses a small towel and a bag of frozen peas at me. "For your cheek, it's starting to bruise."

I take the makeshift cold compress and thank him as he sits back down.

"So now what?" He asks.

I shrug as I press the frozen peas and towel to my cheek, "I'm not sure. It's funny because I'll need to talk to her at some point, but I don't want to, and also…I'll need to go home…and I don't want to do that either. Kyle's probably mad at me, seems almost more than Bebe is right now."

"Well you did just break her friends' heart," Craig chimes in.

"Thanks," I mutter to him.

"Wait a minute," Token begins. "You told Bebe in the middle of the game right?"

"Just after the beginning of the third quarter, when Iverson made the three pointer; and after that play that put them further in the lead, yeah"

"So let me see if I completely understand this." I watch him take a deep breath before he begins. "You tell Bebe, she slaps you repeatedly before running off. I assume to the parking lot?"

I nod.

"Okay, Kyle is already over there by now…did he _drive _her home?"

"Uh huh, I asked him to."

"You asked Kyle, while you came back over to your seat and watched the rest of the Nuggets game that is going down in history?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and nod, "yeah."

"…You really are an asshole, to both Bebe and Kyle. Bebe for obvious reasons, Kyle for putting him in that position."

"What," I start, sounding slightly exasperated all while knowing I shouldn't. "Was I supposed to do? I had already told her the wedding was off, and that I didn't love her the right way. It's not like I could laugh it off and say I was kidding. I had to follow through with it, didn't I?"

"But dude, asking Kyle to do your work for you?" Craig wonders.

I snort and look down at my lap, "it sounds like a heartless move…but I did it because I still care about her. She couldn't drive herself home, and I wouldn't want her to call a cab. Kyle was the best option and while she might think she would have wanted me to drive her, in the long run she'd realize it'd be better to have Kyle."

"Why?" Craig asks.

"Because…" I sigh. "He's her best friend, and no matter how I feel about it, when someone you love hurts you sometimes the only person you want is your best friend."

I see as Token and Craig exchange looks without saying anything to each other. "But Kyle came back to the game," Token points out.

"Yeah, but he didn't go celebrate with us. And I told him to call Mrs. Stevens, but I know Bebe. How could I not after so long? She wouldn't want to deal with her mom tonight, she'll go over to mine and Kyle's apartment, knowing I wont be there, and he can…be a friend to her. Listen, hug, all that kinda stuff, and she'll probably fall asleep over there."

"And where are you going to stay?" Token asks with a raised eyebrow.

I look at him and give him a small smile.

He doesn't look too pleased but he's Token. "Fine you can stay here.

"Thanks, I owe you one."

"Then pay me back now," he says right off the bat. "Give Kyle a call and let him know you're staying here, and don't make it sound like you're off the wall drunk."

"I guess I can do that." Pulling out my cell I dial his cell phone number, half wondering if he'd even pick up.

"What?" He hisses into the phone after the first few rings.

I stand and walk off into the next rook of Token's house to get a little privacy. Not that it does a whole lot as Craig and Token aren't trying to hide the fact that they're listening in to my side of the conversation.

"I'm-" I barely start out before he interrupts me.

"You're not drunk are you?"

"No."

"Good," he sighs. "So what is it?"

"Bebe's there right?" I ask getting to the point.

He pauses, "how do you know?"

"Because I know her. Has she fallen asleep?"

"…Yeah."

"That's fine, that's good," I run a hand through my hair. "You don't mind staying there with her do you, or letting her sleep there?"

"It's half my apartment why would I mind staying here with her? And no I don't mind letting her sleep but…what about you?"

"I'm gonna stay at Token's, just for tonight…so Bebe and I wont have to run into each other right now."

"…That's probably a good idea..."

"…Hey," I say after a moment and walk further away from the main living to ensure some privacy. "How mad are you at me?"

Kyle doesn't say anything on his side for awhile, and I'm about to tell him never mind before he answers, "pretty damn mad. What you did, and where you did it, and having me take care of the aftermath…"

"I know…I'm sorry."

"To who, me or Bebe?"

"…Both of you I guess."

"I'll call you when she leaves tomorrow," he replies before hanging up.

I look at my phone as it flashes our call time. Having Kyle mad at me was definitely not something I had anticipated, even if it makes sense that he is.

"So?" Token asks once I walk back into the main living room.

"So?" I question back as I drop back into the chair I was occupying earlier.

"So what's it like to be a single guy again; Bebe's eventual wrath aside," Craig asks slightly amused.

Bebe's wrath huh? I'll think about _that_ when it comes, _if_ it comes.

I shrug, "feels the same. Though this is the first time I've been single for a long time."

"Oh yeah, you've almost always been attached to someone," Craig says thoughtfully. "It was Wendy before she dumped you for Token."

He grins, while Token and I frown.

"I've already apologized for that, I'm not going to again," he mutters to me, but I wave it off. It's ancient history at this point.

"But then you guys got together after Wendy dumped him, realizing she still liked you. Then when she left it was Bebe soon after…dude you don't even know what it's like to be single."

"What is your point Craig?" I ask, my irritation growing.

"I don't have one, I was only saying."

"I think that's enough stupidity for one night, Craig go home. Some of us have to be up early tomorrow," Token says as he immediately turns to me and ignores Craig's protests. "I don't suppose you brought extra clothes or anything right?" I shake my head sheepishly. "Lucky for you we have too much of everything in this house." He stands and starts heading in the direction for the main stairs. "You can stay in the guest room across from mine if that's okay?"

I stand up and start following behind him, "anything's fine. Thanks again Token."

"Don't worry about it. You'll have to let yourself out tomorrow morn – Craig why are you still here?" He ask turning around on the stairs. I turn around as well and see Craig standing at the bottom of the staircase looking up at us.

"Can I stay too?"

"This isn't a sleepover; you're not drunk, so no."

"But-"

"No."

"But-"

"What's been going on with you? You've been so clingy lately." Token wonders annoyed.

"I have not."

"Yes you have."

Craig almost glares at Token before looking at me, "hmph," he says and turns around heading for the door. "Fine, I'll make sure you see a lot less of me," is the last thing he says before heads out, slamming the front door behind him.

"…What was that?" I ask looking back at Token who still has his eye on the entrance.

He looks back at me carefully before answering, "How the fuck should I know? Anyway come on," he finishes and continues up the stairs with me on his tail.

Token goes over where everything is as he walks me to my room. I may have been at his house numerous times but I've still yet to get the entire layout down. It's just way too big for me to bother remembering where everything is.

He sighs as he looks around at the guest room I'll be staying in, "you all set, got everything you need?"

"Think so," I mutter, looking around just as he is. "Thanks again for letting me crash here."

"Well, where else were you going to go?"

"I had planned on asking Craig if you said no."

"Why would I say no?" He questions while smiling. "Anyway, I figured you wouldn't feel like twenty questions, something you would have undoubtedly had to go under if you stayed with Craig. You have enough things to think about without an interrogation."

"Like how the fuck I'm going to face Bebe?"

"Like that," he nods in agreement.

I watch as he plants himself down in a chair as I do the same on the bed. "How _do_ you plan to face her?" He asks.

"I thought this wasn't going to be twenty questions?"

He holds up his hands defensively, "dude you don't have to answer."

Grumbling under my breath I think about his question. I'm not sure how to face Bebe. What I should say when the inevitable finally happens. I know I have to, and I will, but I have no clue what to say. Nothing I say will possibly make her feel better except to tell her I do want her back…and I'm not going to say that.

Maybe I regret how I handled the situation, but I definitely don't regret ending things with her.

"No idea," I finally answer Token when I realize he's still waiting for my response. "And I cant very well ask Kyle for advice…"

"Hmm, probably not," he mutters to himself. "Speaking of which, how'd he take your call?"

"He's pissed."

"Guessed as much…you know," he starts thoughtfully eyeing me carefully. "This is probably going to bring Bebe and Kyle closer. A lot closer in fact."

"And?" I quietly answer.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Why should it? I imagined it would happen. I already told you I sent Kyle to be with Bebe on purpose. Nothing like a dickwad of an ex to bring two friends closer together."

"And that's what I don't get," Token points out confused. "Because if I remember correctly, and I have an excellent memory, we've had a conversation about your feelings regarding Kyle and Bebe as friends. You don't like it, not one bit."

True…but, "it's not really about me right now. It's for Bee's sake…she'll need Kyle and…" I trail off, not knowing what else to say on the matter.

"I understand your need to step aside for the moment, but you can't expect me to believe you plan to step out of the picture."

"With…who?"

Token cocks his head to the side giving me a look of pure annoyance. He's irritated I'm not admitting it, and that I'm pretending to not know what he's talking about. "All I've ever gotten from you the past few months is how much you miss Kyle. How much you want your old friendship, how much Bebe's getting in the way of you guys rekindling it. Well," he tosses up his hands. "Now she's out of the way…in a sense."

I narrow my eyes, "don't assume I broke up with Bebe to get closer to Kyle."

"I'm not," he folds his arms. "Because we both know that wouldn't happen, we both know it'd have the reverse affect. I know you broke up with her because you've realized something we've all known since day one. She's just not right for you. But Kyle-"

"Wont ever be as close to me as he is with Bebe…don't you think I'm realizing _that _as well?"

Token's silent as he studies me.

I don't enjoy admitting that I think I'm right. I probably wont get to have that unbreakable bond with Kyle that he has with Bebe. I feel like I've signed some sort of warrant by sending them off together, by having them spend all this alone time together. If there were any doubts in their friendship I've no doubt filled them. And I cant tell Token how much that upsets me, he probably already knows anyway.

He probably knows that right now I'd rather not be here with him, talking about this. That I would rather be at home, in my apartment with Kyle. That I'd rather things were great between us, and that the only thing going on tonight would be me fixing dinner, with his minimal help and us talking about whatever.

That all I really want between us is to have normal everyday conversations in our home.

But that's not the reality of things, and I wonder when and if it ever will be. Kyle might have to pick sides, and it hurts to think he most likely wouldn't pick mine. But I cant imagine losing him, when I already lost him before.

It's taken so much of our time and energy to be friends again, and after all that…I don't want to go in reverse. I want to be super best friends again, I want to spend all our waking days together again…I want…a lot.

And if that kiss, and those feelings I get when we've touched mean anything and I can't keep pretending they don't. I may want too much. Maybe way too much.

"I'll let you get some sleep," Token says finally as he stands up. "And um," I watch him expectantly but he shakes his head. "Never mind, night dude."

"Night," I answer back and watch as he retreats out of the room, closing the door behind him.

-

Token's gone off to work when I wake, and I don't spend too much time loitering in his house before I leave and head to class myself. Classes are almost meaningless the way people are talking about the Nuggets game from last night. Even my professors are talking about it with students, rather then getting on with the lessons. Since most everyone knows I had tickets I'm nominated as the guy to press for details. I don't mind giving them, but there was a major time in the game when I hadn't really been paying attention.

Work is more or less the same. The questions don't stop, and I almost get tired and fed up of answering them. I would have expected people to spread them around amongst themselves, but it seems they'd rather get the play by plays from me. I'm almost annoyed when Mr. Zanadaci doesn't stop them. It's almost like he wants to hear about it as much as everyone else but can't be bothered with lowering himself down enough to ask me. Which is probably the case.

Because of the day, it's not until we're closing for the night that I remember that I have to go home…to the apartment. Bebe hasn't called me, and neither has Kyle, so I can only assume that she isn't there.

I still haven't quite figured out what to say to her and I feel a lot of apprehension at seeing Kyle.

When I walk in slowly through the front door I'm quiet, as if listening for sounds of Bebe and Kyle.

"She's not here," Kyle's voice says. I stumble forward a little as he pulls open the door as I push. He looks at me blankly as I gather myself and pull my key out of the lock. "She's back at her apartment," he adds and steps away from the door.

I drop my keys and things on the dining table, watching as Kyle settles himself on the couch in front of the television. It seems he was watching the news before I came in.

"Oh," I finally say. "Is she…okay?" I watch him turn to give me a disdainful look. "Right," I respond back quietly. "Dumb question…um, thanks again though…for last night. For staying with her, driving her home, and all that."

"Wasn't given much choice," he responds as he turns back to the TV set. "But I would have done it anyway."

I continue to stand awkwardly in my own apartment, watching Kyle as he watches television. "How was the party?" He asks, though his eyes are nowhere near me.

"Oh, um," I start to walk toward him and stop when I reach the edge of the couch. "It was good…normal kind of party, save everyone kept singing Nuggets cheers and stuff. You should have come," I add and only bite my own tongue for saying that.

"I should have come?" He says flippantly. Kyle turns off the TV and stares at me. "I should have come?" He says again.

"Didn't mean to say that," I mutter to him.

"No but you've cleared a path, why did you go? For that matter what in the hell possessed you to break up with Bebe-"

"At a basketball game, I know!" I interrupt him.

He frowns, "actually I was going to ask why you broke up with her at all. You were the one who got so damn defensive about you two. And if I remember correctly, and as Bebe pointed out, only a few days ago you decided on appetizers for your wedding. Sorry if I'm a little confused as to why you'd suddenly dump her, and in the worst way possible."

Before answering him I drop into the couch's other end. I might as well get used to repeating myself. I'm sure I'll have to explain my actions a few more dozen times.

I begin thinking over my explanation, wondering if I should tell him what I more or less told Token and Craig. But Kyle isn't them, and he's so close with Bebe that it seems pointless to draw out anything when my answers are so point blank.

"I don't love her anymore…like I should, so why would I marry her?"

"But what made you suddenly realize that?"

"It wasn't sudden," I respond back looking down at my hands. "It'd been in my mind for awhile, I was just sorta…denying it. It didn't make sense to me, to think that I would not love her anymore. But then you..." I trail off.

"Me?" Kyle presses curiously. "What does your breakup have to do with me?"

"You were the first person to make me question what I felt for her," I mutter. "Remember when you said that I felt obligated to love and marry her? Well…it's been on my mind since. Then I asked Token about it…and, well, I don't want to get into the subject but since then every time I looked at her I wondered. For awhile I tried to, I don't know, love her even more, I even tried to have more sex with her…" I smirk sadly.

"But then I realized, that I didn't want to. I was only trying to convince myself that I still loved her. You had been right all along. I never thought that NOT marrying her was even an option. I didn't even think twice when I made that decision. It was just another predicted step in life to me, nothing to question, you just do it."

"…Then this is all…_my _fault?"

"No it's not about," I stop when I realize that I've reached out my hand toward him. It's still hanging mid air between us. We're both probably wondering where that hand was planning on heading. I drop it back to my side. "It's not about placing blame," I say to him. "You just made me realize…it would have happened anyway."

"But you're wrong," Kyle's voice sounds a little rusty, and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "You wouldn't have realized it. You would have gone on, and married Bebe. You said it yourself, you said you probably would have led a really content life with her."

I sigh, "maybe…no, you're probably right. But I would have come to that conclusion at some point. Whether it would have later rather sooner, but content and happy are different things."

I watch as Kyle plays with his double carts piercing for while, as if he's distracted. He drops his hand and stands up. "I still feel partially responsible though."

"You shouldn't."

"But I do, and yet I…" He trails off and bites his lip. "I've gotta go to work."

"Work? It's almost ten at night," I point out and stand up myself.

"Oh right," he mutters, glancing out the picture window. "I meant I have to go to Bebe's." He looks back at me, "I told her I would stay with her for a few days, my things are already in my car…do you mind?"

Before I can shake my head, to tell him, no I don't mind, I find myself nodding. He looks surprised that I would, and I can say that I'm a little surprised myself. "Bebe," I start. "She got to…" I pause. No matter how I say this, it's not going to come out sounding right. "She got to have you all last night, and as great of company that Token is, he's not exactly you either. Kyle you're not going to be here that much longer, can't you…just for tonight maybe stay with me instead?"

He's backing up slowly, and now he's turned to grab his coat, keys, and cell phone. He stops walking once he reaches the door. "Are you asking me to pick?" He questions, as he turns back to me. "To pick you or Bebe? To pick my best friend here, or my…" He gestures toward me. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. He couldn't finish his sentence, so I wonder where he sees us at.

"I guess I am," I respond, staying where I am next to the couch.

"I don't appreciate that," he quietly answers.

I'm at a loss. Now's not the time to be selfish, or to put Kyle in another position he doesn't want to be in. I already know Bebe is really important to him, I know that…but at the same time…he's really important me. And I know I hurt Bebe, and I know she needs him, but I need him too. I've always needed him. I can only be self sacrificing for so long, and okay maybe one day isn't enough. I've already taken myself away from Bebe so can I really live with myself if I demand her best friend as well?

"Do you really want me to choose?" He asks again.

Closing my eyes, I shake my head.

"Good," he says and I hear as he opens the front door.

Dropping back onto the couch and I lean back onto it and hoist my feet up and over the arm. I think this is the first time I wish we had popcorn ceilings. Sometimes if you look hard enough they can take shapes. Sorta like when you look up at clouds. But we don't, so I keep my eyes shut tight.

_What_ am I doing? Or better yet, what was I trying to do by asking Kyle to pick and choose? It's all so absurd and confusing, and it's just a load of shit I don't want to admit or deal with.

But…fuck. I can't ignore the fact that my heart about hammered against my ribcage as I waited for him to make his decision. Not to mention I have no idea what the hell I had intended on doing with-

"Just so you know," I jolt and flip my eyes back open. Only now do I realize that while I heard Kyle open the door, I _never_ heard him close it. "I'm still a little pissed at you for what you did."

I can't see him from the angle that I'm at, but its probably better this way.

"But, I'll still be around…and stuff…after all, you're still my…"

There's a long lingering pause.

"…friend." He finishes. "And I wouldn't want to ruin anything we've worked on for the past three and a half months. I don't want to ruin anything."

I don't say anything, I'm not sure if I need or want to.

"Stan did you hear me?" He questions out.

I clear my throat, "yeah, I did, and I-uh, I agree. Let's not ruin all the crap we've had to go through just to like each other again."

Kyle makes some sort of wordless noise before I do hear the door close and his steps fade away down the stairs.

We've agreed not to ruin anything. I snort. Yeah, I wonder how long that resolve will last.

-**FG**


	34. Kyle and Stan VI

**AN: **Bah! I'm in a bit of a slump. Don't get me wrong, I know what I want to write, things are falling into place (naturally) not at all like I had originally planned. I simply cant get myself to just sit down and write. OH! JumpinPopTarts made me some fanart! Yay! The link is in my bio, and its so cute because in a way it kinda sums up this story in a nutshell…

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle **

Fumbling with the lock in my car, I curse softly before I accidentally drop the keys onto the cement ground. Frustrated I bang the side of my window with my fist before bending down to pick up my fallen keys. Standing back up, I attempt to unlock my car again and instead turn my back to the car and lean against it, head looking up.

I've got to calm down. I need to stop shaking, once I stop shaking I can enter my car, but fumbling around like this is isn't going to make my surprise visit to Bebe any better. I smirk and turn back around to try and get back into my car. I'm successful this time, and while I'm on the road I call for Bebe.

She takes it as what I posed it to be. That I want to come over so she won't be alone, and she seems more than grateful to have me. Hopefully she wont question me about the bag I don't have. I left the apartment on impulse, telling Stan I promised Bebe I'd be around for her for the next few days. While I might as well, and while she'll probably love me more for it, I can't be bothered to tell her or anyone else the real reason.

That I simply couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere near Stan, alone.

I thought, that even after realizing that I was – God it's so hard to say, even now. Even after realizing I'm attracted to him I figured I'd be okay. That the hard part was simply admitting it to myself. I thought that after spending a whole night with Bebe and he with Token that I might wake up to find that what I was feeling would be one huge blow over.

It's not, and I left him at the apartment because of it. Left him thinking that I had chosen Bebe over him. But there wasn't a lot I could do. What else could I tell him? 'Sorry Stan I wouldn't mind staying here with you but I feel like if I do I might admit and do something that'll make you look at me different'? Yeah no thanks, I'll pass.

At the same time…he asked me, wanted me to pick him. And I'm not some oblivious twelve year old. I saw the look in his eye, the hesitance in him asking. I _know _we're having the same sort of thoughts about each other. That isn't the problem. The problem, the only problem is Bebe. I couldn't possibly do something like betray her. I've never betrayed any of my friends (recently) and I don't want to start now.

Staying around Stan would never make my resolve easier. The best way to deal with temptation is to not have it flaunted in front of you. Yes. Damn, I'm glad no one can read my thoughts.

When I get to Bebe's I don't waste any more time thinking of the way my feelings toward Stan are drastically changing now that I've more or less accepted that they're not going anywhere. I knock on her door, aware that it's silent inside and wait.

Hearing the soft patter of her feet, I hold my breath for whatever reason and stare with apprehension as she opens the door. She gives me a light…normal smile.

"Hey, come in, I hope you haven't eaten yet?" She says to me first thing.

I almost want to narrow my eyes, but stop myself before sliding in and shaking my head. Actually I have eaten, but I feel like its better to pretend I haven't. For her sake. I slip off my coat and Bebe graciously takes it and hangs it in the nearby closest. She smiles again at me and proceeds to walk into the kitchen, before pausing to look over at me.

"Where's your bag?"

"My bag?" I question back dumbly, instantly berating myself when I remember. "Oh, um, I left it in the car for now," I mutter. "So," I rush, hoping she wont ask why I've left it in the car. "How are you doing?"

"I'm well," she replies firmly. "I was trying to figure out how to make this southwestern soup I like. Stan's always made it for me, and for some reason I never bothered to figure out how to make it myself." She laughs lightly at this and I peer around, almost nervously.

You'd think she didn't break up with Stan, in fact you'd think nothing had changed whatsoever. "That so?" I say as I gravitate toward the kitchen. "How's it working out so far?"

"I'm not sure," she's stirring the soup in a medium sized pot and I watch as she dips a wooden spoon in before holding it out for me to try. "What do you think?"

Taking a hold of the wooden spoon, I take a sip, nodding appreciatively at the taste. "Not bad, tastes…um…southwestern."

She laughs and starts stirring again, "that's good to hear. It's what I was going for."

I watch her in silence as she continues to cook. She looks perfectly fine from here. Well put together, calm, _happy, _not at all like the girl I dealt with yesterday, not even this morning.

"Bebe," I start slowly.

"I think it's done!" She suddenly proclaims, almost making me jump up. Bebe opens a few cupboards, grabs some bowls and spoons before dishing us each a helping of her soup. She hands, or more like shoves, me a bowl and I take it without argument.

Following her lead I take my bowl into the living room and plop down into the couch across from her. Watching her I take a few spoonfuls into my mouth. She seems happy with how it turned out, if her cheerful face is anything to go by. When our eyes meet she only smiles and continues to eat. Just when I think I can perhaps eat without having to worry over her current behavior I hear a noise coming from her. Sounded almost like a squeak.

Glancing up I see her hands have tightened considerably around her bowl, and that her face has dropped its happy façade and that she's now looking grim.

"I've made a few decisions," she states.

I lower my bowl to the couch cushion and wait for her to explain.

"About Stan and I."

I nod to let her know that I'm listening intently. "And he has absolutely lost his fucking mind."

Okay. Maybe not exactly what I was expecting.

"Either that, or he's cheating on me."

"He's not cheating on you," I say automatically.

"I agree," Bebe replies firmly. "Which means he has naturally lost his mind."

"Why do you-"

"He dumped me at a basketball game Kyle. If Stan were in his right mind he would have taken me home. He would have at the bare minimum done so in _private_, rather than at a Nuggets game. My natural reaction, was of course, shock. Disbelief, you know, that sort of thing. But now that I've had time to think about it, and," here she stops and rests a hand over mine. "Thank you for being there for me."

"No problem," I answer distantly. I'm more interesting in her train of thought than her giving me thanks.

"And I've realized Stan is simply overwhelmed. He's stressing, and he took it out on breaking things off with me. He must think that it'll help relieve stress, but there's no way he means it."

"Wait, Bebe-" I try to interrupt her, but she goes on without losing a beat.

"The whole promotion with Zanadaci, school, even you, why wouldn't he be stressed? And here I kept on nagging him about wedding plans. This will all pass," she's nodding to herself. "Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to help me get Stan to realize that I will be there for him. That I am his support system, and that this changes nothing. That we can and will put the wedding on hold until his stress has passed, and until his load has decreased. You'll help me right, you'll help us get back together?"

My answer rests on the tip of my tongue as I look at her hopeful and determined look. I'd love to help Bebe, I really would…just not _this _way. I'm not sure why I thought Bebe Stevens would simply accept this breakup and instantly move on. Probably because it sounds like an easier less dramatic situation, which is why I really should have expected the opposite.

"Kyle?" She questions, her emotions falling to be replaced with confusion.

She's wondering why I'm hesitating. Why I haven't already agreed to help her get Stan to see the error of his ways. It's not a complicated reason, but it's one I can't possibly tell her. For as willing as I was to be around for her, to be her shoulder to cry on, her confident, her supporter if she chose to bash Stan and everything he represents…I don't want to help her get him…back.

"I thought you had resolved to give you and Stan a break?"

"I have," she says confused.

Now I'm confused as to what part of 'break' equals a little over twenty-four hours.

"I don't think," I start slowly. "I wonder if that's the best idea." I finish. She tilts her head to the side as if to silently question how it could NOT be a good idea. "Stan broke up with you. At a basketball game…and you said yourself," I rush on when I see her about to interrupt. "You said yourself that he did it in his most serious tone and look."

"Yeah but…" she trails off softly, and looks down at her bowl. "What should I do? I'm really mad at him Kyle, for what he did. So mad that I want to…to…" she slumps. "I'm mad but I still want to marry him, I still want to be his wife. I want his kids, and a two story house and…flower pots, and rocking chairs on a balcony when we're old. I want all that, with him. No one else."

I don't know what to say to her. I've never been that great at comforting any girl unless she was a friend. And as I gather Bebe in my arms and let her cry in my chest, I realize that should've been my first clue as to who I really am and what I really want.

-

I let out a long depressed sigh and cringe when I hear someone else letting one out of the same tone. "What crawled up your ass and died?" Craig and I ask each other in unison. We sigh again together and jump when we give the same answer, "Stan."

It'd be almost funny, if I wasn't in such a pissy mood, watching Craig pretty much mirror all my expressions and words. "Why Stan?" I ask him before he has a chance to ask the same thing.

We're both early to work, and are hunched over a few mugs of coffee. Chef usually doesn't need the both of us in the morning, but he had mentioned something about a lot of corporate men stopping by as they passed through town. Something about a convention in Denver.

"And since when is he just Stan?" I add thoughtfully, pushing my mug back and forth in my hands.

"Since he decided it'd be fun to hog Token."

My eyebrows furrow in automatic confusion. "What?" I question him bluntly.

Craig takes a long drink of his coffee. "You know, I understand his need to talk to people and whatnot, but why Token? Token has a best friend, I'm his best friend."

"Bit selfish, don't you think?"

"I know, I don't really care though. He's got you hasn't he, why's he need my friend?"

Almost choking on a sip of coffee, I catch myself and take a deep breath. "Token isn't just _your_ friend. And…Stan doesn't really have me," I mutter. "I'm staying at Bebe's right now."

Craig looks at me surprised before he answers, "you're taking her side?"

"I'm not taking sides…but if I was wouldn't it make sense to take Bebe's? She's the one that's been wronged."

He leans his head back against the edge of the wooden chair he's leaning in, "I guess. Yeah I guess that makes sense. Now I see why he's crawling to Token, it's your fault."

I watch him stand in disbelief. He stretches before patting his coat pocket that's hanging on a hook against the wall. "Don't suppose you smoke?" He asks as he extracts a pack and a lighter.

"Not really."

"Not really…what's that mean?" He mutters as he makes his way to the back door. "Chef!" he calls out. "Kyle and I are going out back for a smoke!"

"Kyle doesn't smoke!" We hear him yell back, "and since when do you?!"

"Since I realized how cool I look when I do it," he grins at me before opening the door and letting me walk past him. The door slams shut behind him and I watch as he leans himself against the rough exterior wall of the building.

It smells back here, naturally. The garbage is back here, so of course it would. That's why I make a habit of not hanging out here.

"Why should I have to be exposed to your smoke?" I ask as I rest beside him, not even bothering to wave away the wafts floating around us.

"You could always go back inside."

"And leave you smoking out here pathetically alone? What kind of friend do you take me for?" I smile lightly, and I can see one curve on Craig's lips as well. "Why did you start?"

"I told you already, because I look cool when I do it."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, we both were."

"Both?"

He flicks some ash to the ground before answering, "me and Kenny. We started sorta at the same time, only Stan thinks he only smoked socially. You know, like once a month or something but..." he sighs. "We were smoking buddies. Maybe not the healthiest way to hang out, but it was one of few things that we bonded over. That set _our_ friendship apart from others."

"…I've never heard you really talk about him."

Craig clears his throat and sniffs. "It's a sore topic, and when he died that only made me more…I don't know." He looks down, taking a small puff as he does so. "Worried for my best friend?" he puts it as a question as if he's not sure himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Token races too, that's how _he_ and Kenny bonded."

"Since when does Token race?" I ask surprised. I've never heard anything about that.

"Since years ago, he's the one that got Kenny into all that. We don't really mention it since he's parents don't know, and even the words 'car racing' are sore topics around here. But unlike Ken who did it for the thrill, I think Token does it because he gets bored with his money. He has a really awesome car too…you should see it sometime. Anyway since Kenny died, and after Stan got over his…" he waves his hand around, looking for a word before a disgust look pops on his face. "Emotional thing," he finishes. He's been closer with Token, so have I, I think. Neither of us wants to see him race anymore, not with what just happened. But…Token's Token," he sighs. "And he's getting irritated with me about it. Not so much Stan though…because I don't even think Stan realizes that by picking Token out of all our friends to suddenly confide in, he's stopping him from racing. I, on the other hand, make it clearer that I'm being a bit of a clingy bastard."

"…constantly hanging around him means he can't go racing." I say out loud and Craig nods. "You couldn't just tell him you're worried about him?"

"Now see how gay that sounds?" He points out as he takes another inhale. "I don't want to make it sound like that since it isn't like that."

I'm hesitant to go on. We're sorta entering uncomfortable territory, for a number of reasons. But damn my curiosity. "I thought you-"

He immediately cuts me off, "well don't. Not with Token, not with anyone."

"But you're so…"

"Look Kyle," he says a little angrily as he drops his cigarette onto the ground to smash it. "When you left the gangs sorta broke up into two's. Don't get me wrong, we were all still friends, just lines of two were more defined. Stan and Kenny. Tweek and Butters, Bradley and Clyde, me and Token. When Kenny died there was a sense of uneasiness, but then you came back and…well, I thought things wouldn't change much. But Stan was a prick to you and he latched on to Token, and now, look at _us_! I swear to God if you want a cigarette I'll punch you in the gut!"

"I don't."

"Good."

"It'd be nice…to have Stan though."

"Good – what?"

"See you inside Craig," I say and slip back into Cherry Kiss.

"Wait I thought you had something to say about Stan too!" I hear his yell through the shut door.

**Stan**

"Where's Craig?" I ask automatically, dumping myself into one of Token's chairs.

He shrugs before doing the same on the couch. "Dunno, what's up?"

I rub the creases in my forehead before answering. "Hey dude?" I question, before I answer his first one.

"What?"

"Thanks for being like…" I shrug. "My ear and shit, I appreciate it."

"Well, no offense, but I think it's better to talk to me…rather than a slab of cement." He says this guardedly, and I'm happy he did so. At the same time I wish he didn't feel he had to walk on egg shells at the mere suggestion of Kenny. I probably will never stop missing my best friend, but I don't want to hole myself up like I tried to in the beginning.

"Yeah," I give him a small weak, pathetic grin.

"Okay, what's wrong now, about Kyle or Bebe?"

I frown. "I have other problems not involving them."

"True, but they're never worth coming to my house about." Damn him for realizing that. "So, what's up?" he repeats.

"I'm," I start before slumping. "Tired of talking about everything. I'll still have to talk to Bebe, and my parents, and probably her parents, and half the fucking town."

"…and all you want to do is…" Token trails off and I drop my head on the arm of the chair.

"Talk no more."

"And since that isn't an option?"

I eye him silently before adjusting my attention elsewhere, like his fireplace. "Kyle's living with Bebe for awhile."

I can hear him move, he must be surprised. "What, why?"

"Because he likes her more than he likes me."

"Don't be a kid," he chides.

"I'm not, he does," I brief him on what happened the other day before falling silent again.

"That doesn't mean he likes her more than you."

"Doesn't it?"

"No! Ugh, jeez, why would you even ask that of him? What's been getting into you lately? The possessiveness, the dumping Bebe…the talking to me so much of all people, asking your _dad_ for advice. What the hell is going on with you?"

Good question. I have an answer too. Though I had originally decided I wouldn't be confiding in any of my friends. I wasn't going to confide in anyone, save Kenny, but he doesn't count. It's not that I'm ashamed of my actions, or my feelings, but they're no one's business but my own and who they involve. I can already see the reactions. People will think it's why I broke up with Bebe, and I don't want people to make that assumption. It would only get back to her and I can't even imagine the reaction.

"I kissed Kyle." There. It's out and over with.

"You…_kissed _Kyle?"

"Uh huh…well, by accident. I wasn't really thinking about it, I was in a hurry and it just sorta happened."

"Stan?"

"What?"

"…a person doesn't accidentally kiss another person."

I finally turn my head back to Token. His face is calm as it usually is. He isn't judging me, or pressing me about it. He's just saying. I turn back to look at his fireplace, "I know, or I knew on a subconscious level…and…"

"And what?"

"_And_…I wouldn't mind doing it again…I _want _to do it again. Maybe be in less of a rush though," I mutter the last part.

"So what's stopping you?"

Does his voice sound…bored? My eyes slowly wander back over to him. He's still sprawled out over his couch, with one arm hanging off the side, as he looks at me.

"What do you mean, what's stopping me?"

"What did he do you after you "accidentally" kissed him?"

"We…" Just thinking about it makes my face hot. "We just, you know, played it off as what it was. I was in a hurry and I told him that and he understood, and later that night we decided to drop it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. We haven't brought it up since."

Token sits up and carelessly leans against the arm of his sofa, "Stan," he starts out. "If you had kissed me, you'd at the very least get an earful. Its pretty damn hard to accidentally kiss a guy who's supposed to be your friend. The fact that Kyle didn't even jokingly tell you to make sure that it doesn't happen again is probably a sign of something in your favor."

"…How do you know?"

"I don't."

"Shouldn't you be telling me to try the single life again first? Or at the very least to wrap up my mess with Bebe first before I decide I want to explore other options? Where's my advice on the difficulties of getting involved with Kyle? What of the hardship I might have to go through, the drama, the fact that I might very well scare the shit out of the one person I'd rather not. That any sort of pursuit from me might send him back screaming to California. That I might lose the one guy, whose friendship is starting to mean as much to me as it did when we were nine? That," I snort. "That already means more? Why aren't you telling me that I'd be putting Kyle in another tight spot with Bebe, his best friend? Where's that damn advice Token? Instead all I get is a 'go for it'? What kind of shitty advice is that?!"

I'm glaring at him, but he still looks unfazed, "I said what's stopping you, not to go for it. And it sounds to me you already thought through everything yourself, so why do I have to mention it?"

My eyes go back to the fire as all the pent up…whatever that was, fades. "Since when have you been a good listener? I don't remember you being like this when Kenny was alive."

Token suddenly stands up to stretch his arms, "that's because when Kenny was alive the rest of us barely existed outside the group atmosphere to you." He lowers his arms, and cracks his neck. "Don't look so ashamed, it's alright. Besides, I like being in the background. Work puts me in the spotlight all the time because of my parents' money, so it's kinda nice to fade into the back when I'm around you guys. That, and I have Craig as a best friend. As much as that guy likes to hear himself talk, I like to listen. So, are we done for today?"

He's grinning, and I realize for the first time that it's like he's the psychologist and I'm the patient.

I nod and stand up myself, "but Token?" I ask as we start to head for his front door. "You haven't told me what you think I should do."

"Well, you still haven't answered my initial question of what's stopping you."

"Bebe," I answer with a sigh. "Kyle, I think, is her backbone right now, and if I did this to her…ever tried to…take, him from her…I don't want to do that to her."

"Then it's a good thing Kyle's old enough to make his _own_ decisions, and that Bebe isn't made of glass. She's stronger than she looks. I should know she gave me a black eye in 7th grade."

I smile nostalgically; I remember when she did that. "She _had_ been aiming for Craig, you're the one that got in the way," I point out to him and he shrugs with an easy smile.

We step outside his house and I wait for him to lock it up before we walk down his front steps. "Did you walk here?" He asks when he doesn't see my car. I nod.

"My car's at the college," I add.

"Shouldn't you be there too?"

"Technically, yes."

He rolls his eyes and gestures for me to hop in the passenger's side of his car, "are you still doing okay with your classes?"

"I'm not actually sure, but I think so," I tell him. "Why?"

"I'm hungry and I was going to go to Cherry Kiss, want in?"

"…I'd better not," I say, deciding on that for a number of reasons.

"Your call. To the college then?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

Token drops me off in the parking lot of South Park Community, but rather than go to my classes, as I should be doing, I head to my car and drive myself home. I'll just read the chapters we were going to go over in class today in the apartment that way if my mind wanders off it isn't a big deal. I have a feeling it'll be doing a lot of that today.

When I get to the apartment's parking lot, my eyes automatically catch something and I end up having to slam on the break before I hit a parked car.

Kyle's white Hybrid is parked in his spot.

It doesn't make any sense. He said he would be staying at Bebe's, and that aside he should be at work. He shouldn't be here…I calm myself down and park my car next to his, gathering my keys after I've locked it up.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush to open the door. Maybe he isn't really here, maybe he just dropped off his car for…some odd reason, and Bebe took him back to her place. He might not be here at – "Stan!" He exclaims, just as he comes out of his bedroom.

He's trying to discreetly toss something back in his room, but I catch a glance at it.

"I thought you'd be at school?" He questions as he closes his door.

"I thought you'd be at work?" I question back.

"Chef let me have an extended lunch break so that I could…" he trails off.

"So that you could pack a bag?"

His lip turns upwards in annoyance, "saw my bag didn't you?"

"Yeah, its pretty hard to be discreet about a giant duffel bag being tossed in a room."

Kyle sighs, and opens his bedroom door again to, in fact, haul out the giant bag.

"Are you and Bebe going somewhere for the week or something?" I ask eyeing the large thing. Trust Kyle and his materialistic behavior to not know how to pack light.

"Huh? No. I…uhm," he groans. "I need some extra clothes and stuff while I'm staying with Bebe."

I eye him carefully. I'm confused. "I thought you had your bag all packed up in your car when you left yesterday?"

He bites his lip and looks away.

"Unless you…" I trail off for a moment, thinking it over. "Did you leave on impulse last night?" Rather than answer me right away he leaves his eyes to the side. I feel a lump start to build in my throat. "You did, didn't you?" Still no answer from him or eye contact. "Kyle…why?" I breathe out. "Is it because you like Bebe more than me?"

That does it. He meets my eye again to give me a bewildered look. "What?" He questions and I shake my head, more than happy to see it couldn't possibly have been because of that. "Oh, well…" He rubs the back of his neck, making it clear to me that he'd rather not say what he's about to say.

"You should know that I didn't choose Bebe over you…it isn't like that it's just, when you asked me, the _way _you asked me…I didn't think I should stick around."

"Why would you think that?"

He drops his hand from his neck to sigh at me and give me a very ineffective glare, "come on Stan. Don't act like you didn't…feel," he voice drops so lowly for that one word that I barely heard him. "That tension around us, that air, that, that whatever it is that's been hovering around us for days, weeks even!"

So Kyle's noticed it too. I thought he might but…I could never really be sure. "Those touches…" I mutter and he reddens but nods. "And that ki-"

"Yes," he interrupts me.

"It's been kinda driving me crazy," I admit.

"Me too," he nods in agreement.

"I kept thinking about it," he's still nodding. "I AM thinking about it."

"Same here, but it was just an accident," he points out.

"I was in a hurry," I hear myself repeat that information for what seems like the hundredth time.

"You…thought I was Bebe," his voice grows softer and I nod slowly, before I start to shake my head.

"Maybe I was telling myself that at the time, but I knew who you were, I _knew, _and I still did it."

I watch Kyle decide he no longer wants to support himself entirely by choosing to rest his back against the hallway wall. "And then I met Audi."

"Audi?" My brows furrow at the mention of the ex-Raisins girl he went on a date with. The one I've never met, or remember meeting in childhood.

He's nodding more to himself, "she looked _just _like you. It was like it was seeing you in female form." He sounds almost appalled at the idea. "And then it just came to me, or, I just acknowledged it for what it was. She helped me see something I didn't even want to see, or didn't notice. That I had some sort of incredible attraction…to you."

"Feelings mutual," I say dumbly. After which I decide I need to sit down.

**Kyle**

Feelings mutual? Oh God, I knew it. Without another word Stan turns and heads into the living room. I feel like I have no choice but to follow him. He stops when he gets there, a mere few feet and looks at all our furniture. Instead of the couch, or the lounge chair he opts in for the carpet, and sets himself down in between the area between the coffee table and the plasma. I do the exact same and settle myself across from him.

"It was supposed to be in passing," I suddenly say, almost as if we hadn't stopped talking.

"I was resolving to not do anything about it," he adds.

We stare at each other and sigh, he suddenly lifts his shoulders up a bit more, "it might still be…in passing I mean."

"Huh?" I wonder.

"Well…what if this isn't what we really feel?"

"What do you mean?" He's starting to puzzle me.

"Well think about it. We could just be overwhelmed with not having seen each other in so many years. Maybe we're just thinking we're feeling this way. We have been in close proximity for awhile now, we could just be getting antsy."

He's saying that, but not even Stan looks like he believes what's coming out of his mouth.

"Even if that's the case," though I know it can't be. "How would we find that out?"

Not even a moment has passed before I see a glint in Stan's eyes. He has an idea. "We'll do an experiment."

"…an experiment?"

He nods, "when I kissed you, accident or not…it was fast and hurried. I barely registered what it was that we were doing…but, if we tried again, and…let it linger…maybe we'd…" he trails off and stares firmly at the carpet. "Christ, this is embarrassing," he mutters to himself.

He has no idea. If he wasn't looking down, I would be. "Maybe we'd see it really is just us making a big deal out of nothing?" I offer, unable to leave his sentence unfinished. He's starting to lift his head slowly to look at me. "Just like a light peck on the lips," I rush out. "Nothing big, you know?"

He nods in agreement and I nod too, more for the sake of doing something with my head. We sit and stare at each other. I don't want to make the first move, no way. But…I can tell he doesn't want to either. Can't blame either one of us, this isn't something I do on a normal basis with anyone. But the silence is stretching, yet…I don't actually feel _that_ awkward. I just…sorta kinda want to get it over with. To be done with it. We need to be done with this.

"I feel like a kid," he suddenly says awkwardly, crashing the silence that's been sitting between us.

"Why?"

"Because…look at us."

I look, and still find his question odd, which he must see on my face.

"We're almost twenty and here we are, sitting on our carpet, cross legged ready to experiment on each other as if we've never experimented on anyone before. I used to have a fiancée, I had sex on a regular basis…now I'm getting a little queasy at the thought of a kiss."

At first I was amused, now I balk a little. "You wont throw up on me right? I remember your stomach problems around Wendy when we were little."

"I haven't done that in a long time. I never did it on Bebe."

"Maybe that means you didn't like her as much," I point out.

"…Maybe."

Now its silence. Again. And this time it _is_ awkward.

"We should…" he starts out, and I nod in agreement. We should kiss, and get it over with. See if our feelings can go farther than just an attraction or if it'll just be lips touching lips.

Stan and I lean forward, stopping when we're about a foot away from each other. He's doing the same as I am. Making sure this is really okay, meeting my eyes, looking at my lips…we draw closer together and stop again once our noses have lightly touched.

"Tilt your head," he says to me far below a whisper.

For some reason I respond back with a soft, "why?"

Tone and voice unchanged he answers, "your Jewish nose is in the way."

Neither of us moves a muscle, but then suddenly, just like _that_, the mood is broken and we both pull back laughing hard.

"You asshole!" I manage in between my laugher. "I can't believe you just said that!"

His sudden lunge forward knocks me off guard and I fall backward, hitting my head on the floor. "Hey!" I start, but don't manage to finish as Stan drops his mouth over mine. Completely pinned down to the floor, with his entire body weight resting on mine it's impossible to not respond back.

Perhaps I've been attracted to Stan a lot longer than I originally thought, because with each kiss, with each breath of air I manage, and through the nips and biting of my lip, I find myself pulling him closer. His hands are pressed to my sides as he supports his upper body, while mine roam the back of his head, wandering through his hair as if I'm feeling around frantically for something.

At times the intensity calms, but then it'll pick back up, and at times I think I hear moans though I have no idea exactly who they come from. By the time we finally part, Stan completely collapses on top of me, resting his head in the crook of my neck. He's breathing hard and so am I. I'm so incredibly hot right now. I have tingles in my stomach, my vision is blurred, and my head is swimming.

I'm just so, so, hot. And I don't know what to say. _If _I should say anything. But my senses start to clear as does my mind. As much as I'd rather never move from this position, Stan is getting gradually heavier.

"…Stan?" I mutter my voice hoarse.

"Hm?" He questions, his 'hm' muffled by the location of his head.

"You're getting heavy."

He jolts up, and leans back, almost falling off me. I can't help it. I laugh again. He looked so ridiculous, almost falling off a person he had only just been resting on. My laugh slowly wanes when I realize Stan isn't joining in. He's looking thoughtfully at me, surprisingly not as embarrassed as I feel. He sits himself back up and we find ourselves in the exact same positions we started this experiment.

This time the silence isn't awkward, it's as if we're trying to see what the other feels without having to ask. My eyes suddenly dart to his hand that's rising and heading toward me. It's just like before, only this time he doesn't drop it back to his side. This time his hand finds itself a destination; on the back of my neck with his thumb caressing my cheek.

I didn't think I'd admit this, even to myself, but I love Stan's eyes. They're so blue and they hide so little from me, even if he used to try so often. I think they're one of his best features…

He makes the next move, gently pulling my head toward him, and I comply willingly, allowing for our lips to meet again. This one has less of the intense urgency our first one did. It's much softer and our lips do nothing but kiss. No biting, no nipping, just soft intimate kisses.

My head is in a complete fog, and I have no idea how long we go on for. I only know that we only stop due more to being tired of the act, rather than wanting to part. I feel like my lips are bruised even though there was little to no force, and I brush a few fingers over them to be sure they are in fact not black and blue.

"They're fine," Stan says as if reading my thoughts. I smile at him and he gives me a soft one back. "Experiment over?"

I nod my head.

Yes, experiment over. For now, just for a little while, I'll pretend there won't be any consequences to my slightly brash actions.

**-FG**


	35. Stan and Bebe II

**AN: **Ah, I adore you my wonderful reviewers. Not just for the obvious reasons of getting reviews either, you guys give me a lot of ideas which is partially why this story is so long. Blame yourselves that the inevitable has yet to happen. ;)

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Bebe**

**Stan**

I want to kiss him again.

It's one of few coherent thoughts I've been thinking since Kyle and I finally backed away from each other, since we finished our experiment.

We'd already been doing nothing but kiss for, I glance at a clock, shit…two hours. Two hours? It felt like two minutes. Two incredible soft, gentle minutes, in which I had the chance to experience what those small pink lips of his could do.

It's like I'm seeing him reborn. I've always known what he looked like, that he had looks, but I've only just _realized _the details. The slight curves, the very very faint freckles, the tinge of red, that Jewish nose of his. I didn't realize he had one before, but there it is, sitting in the middle of his face in all its stereotypical glory. It fits him well, just like every little thing about him.

"I want to kiss you again."

He looks startled that I said that. But I'm dead serious, I do want to. I want to right now. Kyle looks like he's ready to agree when I watch his face pale and the red tinge disappear. I sigh internally. He's realized what he's done. No doubt he's remembered Bebe, and where he's supposed to stand. That we were only supposed to share a small brief peck on the lips simply in the name of a "scientific experiment". But we went overboard, way overboard and now he remembers. He liked it, there's now way he can convince me otherwise. Unfortunately, I can see it in his eyes, he's almost wishing he hadn't liked it.

"Shit," he mutters, looking away momentarily. "Yesterday Bebe asked me to help convince you to go back to her."

"If there was ever a doubt in my mind about breaking things off with her, it's gone now."

Kyle looks back over at me and I can tell he's fighting a smile. He eventually restrains himself and looks at me thoughtfully before standing up and attempting to run his hands through his hair. He gives up at the habitual gesture and looks around the room. I stay where I am and wait for him to say something more.

"I need to get back," he mutters. His eyes suddenly widen to the size of malt balls. "Fuck, I've got to go back to work!" He rushes into his room to haul out his giant duffel toward the front door. "Damnit!" He mutters, "Chef gave me an extended lunch break, not a mini vacation."

Just as he's about to open the door I clear my throat and he turns to look at me expectantly. I watch his face flush. "Erm," he starts.

"We'll have to talk about this later," I suggest and he nods his head in agreement.

"Um," he scratches behind his ear before dropping his hand and giving me a smile through a sigh. "Never mind."

Nodding to him I watch him leave. Once he's left I wonder if I should have offered to help him with his bag, but he looked fine handling it and I don't think he wanted to deal with any sort of…goodbye's. I understand and at the same time I feel more than a little frustrated. Things are out in the open now, but we can barely move forward. That is if we want to move forward…do we want to move forward? Do I? Does Kyle?

It'd be different that's for sure but…I lick my lips and fight back a grin. I kissed Kyle. And it wasn't even one of those wimpy ones, I leapt on the guy! I find myself chuckling at the thought and immediately stop when I realize I'm acting giddy, before I fall back into chuckles again.

I feel so…so liberated! All from just one, okay more like one hundred, kisses. I scoot myself back to lean against the couch and continue to eye the door. I had wanted to ask Kyle if he still planned on staying with Bebe as he went to get his duffel. But even that seems like a stupid question to me. Things would only be harder for him if he stayed here. Not to mention Bebe probably wouldn't get why Kyle would stay with her for one night and decide that was good enough.

Exhaling slowly and feeling my sudden liberation melt I look down at the carpet. "What was I planning to do before this?" I wonder out loud. From my spot still on the floor I look around, hoping that whatever I had been planning to do reminds me of itself. After thinking and coming up with nothing I look expectantly at my cell phone. This would be the perfect time for someone to call me. Like my mom; I haven't talked to her in awhile and I think she's overdue in harassing me about not visiting her.

Or Token; he ought to be checking up on me to be sure I actually made it home without wandering off or something. Or, fuck SOMEONE! But my phone stays silent and I glare at it. I want to tell someone what happened, at the same time I really don't think I should as I'm not entirely sure where Kyle and I stand.

Grunting to myself I stand up, retreat to my bed, and fall back onto it opting to stare at my ceiling. If I'm not going to be called to explain myself I might as well rest and relive the fact that I fucking _kissed _my old best friend and that I fucking loved every second of it. There is absolutely nothing that could ruin this moment for me, except a call to inform me this whole afternoon has been some perverted dream on my part.

I hesitate, "don't you dare ring!" I call out to my phone which should still be resting in the living room. There's no response and I smile in contentment before happily wondering when things went from somewhat bad to utter bliss.

Everything we just did together made so much sense, it was perfect and natural. At the same time it was kinda confusing, and raises a lot of questions I don't feel the need to answer. It's good for the both of us, I think, that he left so abruptly.

Still…I grin to the ceiling, I wouldn't have minded if he hadn't left either.

I could probably continue thinking about what did happen and what will happen and be happy for a pretty long time. Yet my mind is getting really tired. Probably from all the stress I've had to deal with. Now I feel stress free and I have Kyle to thank for that.

I can rest in peace as I nap. Hmm…even falling asleep I think maybe that wasn't the best choice of wording…

"_Hey, do you think you and Wendy will get married?" he asks as he skips a rock across Stark's Pond._

"_I dunno, probably," I say and attempt to do the same. My rock only results in a light splash as it heads straight for the bottom. I frown. I was never good at skipping rocks. Kenny on the other hand…I watch mournfully as he makes another skip almost to the middle of the pond. "Why can't I do this?" I ask scowling at my shitty flat stones._

"_Because you suck at it," Kenny laughs though I don't. "What? Cant be good at everything," he adds after his laughter has calmed down._

_I snort and drop the rocks in favor of plopping myself down at the edge of the pond. Someone to the far side catches my eye and I glance at Kenny who's already noticed him. "Are we going to invite Cartman over?" I ask._

_Kenny looks down at me quietly before he shakes his head and skips another rock. "Do you really think you and Wendy will last that long? I mean dude, we're only eleven." He changes the subject back to what we were talking about earlier and I more than welcome it. Lately it seems whenever Cartman's brought up Kenny gets awkwardly quiet. I don't know why, and I plan on asking but he's always so…he has this face on that just _dares_ me to ask and I don't want to dare it._

"_Yeah," I say to start the conversation back up. "But who else would I marry?"_

_Kenny shrugs and stops skipping his rocks to sit down next to me. "Bebe? How should I know?"_

"_Bebe?!" I snort and start laughing. "I don't like Bebe! She's irritating."_

"_You're just jealous that she takes away your time with Wendy."_

"_I am not dude! Bebe's just so…she'd expect waaay too much from her husband you know?"_

"_You think so?" he asks thoughtfully._

"_Yeah of course!" I eye him a grin starting to form on my face. "Dude…"_

"_What?"_

"You_ like Bebe don't you?"_

_Kenny doesn't snort at the absurdity or shake his head automatically, he just sits and thinks for a short moment before answering, "no," he replies simply. I can't even argue with that response. It was direct and honest. Kenny odds me out sometimes when he's like this._

"_Do you like anyone?" I wonder. I haven't ever seen him take any particular interest in anyone. Then again, we are only eleven and I'm still one of the only guys that have a girlfriend. _

"_I like you," he answers and I make a face._

"_Guys can't like guys the way guys like girls."_

"_You don't think so?"_

"_No dude of course not!"_

"_What about Mr. Garrison?"_

"_That's different."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because…" I hesitate. "Because it's Mr. Garrison."_

_Kenny suddenly throws back his head and laughs. The force behind tossing his head back makes his parka hood fall off and all I see is his dirty blonde hair whisking around him. He eventually stops laughing and rights his head, immediately brushing his hair out of his eyes without a second thought. "I can't argue with that," he says with a smile and I smile back._

_Sometimes I don't understand Kenny. He'll be serious about the most random things one minute but then he's fun and immature the next._

"_Why'd you bring up me marrying Wendy anyway?" I ask._

"_Oh," he leans back on his arms and sticks his legs out in front of him. "My parents were talking about how they couldn't wait to have grandchildren. But then my dad wondered which one of us was going to get married. He said none of us had any assets to trick anyone to marry us. It just got me thinking is all, about who I would marry."_

"_I don't see you marrying anyone," I say bluntly._

"_Me neither, but anyway," Kenny stands back up and grabs a few of the flat stones I had discarded. "I don't see you marrying Wendy."_

"_Dude! Don't curse us like that!" I stand up to and reluctantly take another stone._

"_I don't even see you getting married either. It'll just be me and you until one of us kicks the bucket," he adds._

"_I don't want to grow old with you," I cringe at the thought. "Besides the middle schoolers say there's some cool things about girls we don't know about yet."_

_He mutters some response and I realize he probably already knows what it is. It's Kenny after all. "We won't grow old together," he tells me before turning around to coach me a little on how I'm holding my rock wrong._

"_But then-" I start out confused but Kenny interrupts me._

"_Now trying throwing it," he says to me._

_I look at my rock and the new position my hand has on it before looking at the pond and tossing it sideways like he's always done. "It's skipping!" I say happily and watch as it skips about four times before falling into the water. I turn to grin at Kenny and he grins back._

"_I guess with a little bit of practice and help from me, I guess you could be good at just about anything," he chuckles. "Make sure you don't forget you owe your success at skipping rocks to me."_

"_I won't forget," I tell him honestly and we go back to the rocks, changing the subject to more casual conversations. Like how Cartman is still watching us from the distance._

"Mhm," I mutter groggily to myself as that last thought lingers in my mind as I fully wake up.

I kinda thought I'd end up dreaming about Kyle or something like that and yet it was of Kenny and one of our more random moments together. Then again, our time together never seemed that random, it all eluded to something whether or not I picked up on it.

That dream has reminded me though about what I first thought of Bebe when we were kids. It's almost laughable to think how I didn't even like her, but then how we ended up together for so many years only to get engaged. I wonder how I can say that I really loved her when I so clearly chose Kenny over her all the time, and even now how I'm willing to ease her away from Kyle. If I believed in things coming around full circle I'd predict that we'd end up hating each other at some point.

I glance over at my clock and sigh. I slept away most of the day, and now I feel gross and lethargic but still…I think I should call Bebe now. I've avoided the inevitable long enough and there's nothing like a dream to remind you of it.

After forcing myself to get out of bed I pad my way to the living room and grab my phone to dial for Bebe. She picks up first ring, even though she should be at work. I can hear her breath quickening, "Stan?" She questions quietly into the phone. Almost as if she's not sure it's really me.

"Hey…Bebe," I hold in my sigh.

"…how are you?" She's still talking in that breathless manner. I guess she might be trying to convince herself that I really did call her, and that I am talking to her and that this isn't some dream of hers.

I shake my head, "forget about me, how are you? I'm sorry I haven't called earlier."

"…t's okay," she mutters. "I'm…okay."

"Good," I tell her nodding into the phone. "I think we need to…get together and talk about some stuff don't you, and not through the phone?"

"Yeah," her voice sounds firmer. "I can get Heidi to cover the rest of my shift and we can meet at um…do you mind meeting at our apartment?"

I hold in another sigh. It isn't our apartment anymore, it hasn't been for awhile but I wont correct her on it. "Yeah, I'll meet you there but…you don't have to leave work early, we can get together later or something."

"Now is good," she says just as firm.

"Well, okay, I'll be there in a few minutes then. I'm closer so I'll just wait in my car for you."

"Don't be silly, just use your key. I'll see you then Stan." She hangs up with me and I'm left staring at my phone as it blinks how many minutes we talked.

I don't want to use my key to get in. That implies a whole lot, and I don't want to imply anything. Gathering myself off my bed I grab my keys and head for the door. I hadn't taken anything off when I entered here, having been too occupied with thoughts of Kyle. Now I wish I had. I could delay my meeting with Bebe. As I lock up the apartment and walk toward my car I try to quickly go over everything I could tell her.

Of course I'll apologize for my less than prefect location for a break up, but then after that I'm at a loss of where to take the conversation. Bebe can be as unpredictable as she is predictable so I don't know what to expect.

The drive to her place is entirely too short and she isn't home when I arrive. I park my car in a visitors spot and do what she told me not to do. I turn off my engine and sit to wait for her. I am not going up there alone. It'd be too weird now.

I don't have to wait long before I see her car pull into her spot and I watch her hop out. She seems kinda nervous about something and I can guess about what. She starts heading up the stairs and I remember that I need to do the same so I pop out of my car and at the sound of it her head zips over to me.

I raise my hand in a slight wave before stuffing my hands in my pocket and approaching her.

"You should have waited inside," she says and I shake my head.

"That probably wouldn't have been the best of ideas…" I glance around. "Where's Kyle?"

I don't see his car anywhere and technically he should be here by now.

"I told him you called me so…he's going to spend some time at Craig's for awhile."

Oh. I nod my head and make a gesture ahead of us, "let's go up then."

Bebe eyes me but doesn't say anything before walking ahead of me. My stomach starts to twist and turn into knots the closer we get to the door and I start to rethink my agreeing to have this conversation in an enclosed space with her. I mean I don't think she'll get crazy or violent on me, she isn't like that, but I know I'll feel trapped in her apartment and that wont help matters.

"Did you want something to drink or to eat?" She says once she enters. I follow behind and shut the door not even bothering to peel off my jacket. I really would rather not get comfortable. The longer this lasts the harder it will be on her.

"No I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she turns to look at me and frowns. I know she isn't frowning at me, but rather at my jacket. "Let me take your coat."

"It's fine Bebe," I say quietly. Those gag reflexes that I thought I grew out of are starting to act up. But not for the reasons I had before, I'm just getting THAT nervous.

"Okay…" she looks around aimlessly for a second before she heads for the living room and takes the spot she usually sits at. In the past I would take the one next to her and she would lean against my chest, but now…now I take the chair that's to the side.

I fiddle with my hands for awhile willingly myself to start. I can feel her staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I'm the one that called her after all so she knows I have something to say. My throat feels a little dry and I swallow back everything in my stomach that thinks its going to come out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry," it slips out of me before I have time to say something else.

"…Sorry?" She mutters quietly to me. I look up at her and see there's a bit of confusion on her face.

"Yeah…for being a complete jerk and handling everything in such an awful manner. I don't know what came over me at that game Bebe. I don't know how I could do that to you and I can never apologize enough for it."

**Bebe**

He's apologizing. I feel like the wind's been knocked out of me and I feel a smile creep onto my lips.

When he called me at work I was so nervous! I didn't know what he would say and the fact that he wanted to talk, I was even more nervous. But here we are and things are going the exact way I knew they would. I didn't even have to execute my plan with Kyle to get him to realize his mistake! He's done it all on his own!

"Honey it's okay," I mutter softly back to him. "I knew…I knew you were stressed. I should have been a better partner. I admit I was so…shocked, but after talking it over with Kyle some and thinking things through I knew you'd-"

"Bebe I don't think you understand my apology," he suddenly cuts in.

"No I do," I stand up and kneel over beside him, gripping his hands. He always plays with his fingers when he's nervous. I always thought it was so cute and now is no different. "And well…I don't entirely forgive you for it, but I'm willing to move on and forget about it."

He looks away and so many emotions flash in his eyes that I cant even determine what a single one was.

"That isn't what I meant," he says and meets my eyes again. He changes our hands so he's grasping onto me and gently pulls me up so we're standing together, our eyes only a foot apart.

"I'm not…I'm not apologizing for breaking up with you. I'm just as firm in my resolution that we can't be together anymore."

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"I'm sorry for the way I did it," he goes on. "For doing it at the game in front of thousands of people like it was no big deal. That's what I wont ever be able to forgive myself for. That's what I'm sorry for."

I think he squeezes my hands, I'm not sure really because I'm starting to go numb. I notice he's released my hands and that he's now stepping back from me.

There's a few hitches in my breathing as I try to get my brain to catch up with what he's telling me.

"That…that doesn't make any sense. How can we be so in love one second, and then you decide you don't love me at all?" I ask confused.

"It isn't like that, I do still love you just…not in that way. More like I love a good friend, like I loved Kenny, like the way I love someone I've given so much of my life too."

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Does he think that by saying he loves me the way he loved _Kenny _will make ME feel BETTER?! NO! This is not how things were supposed to work out. He can't really be saying this to me not after everything we've been through together. We've been through hell and back and the only way we've managed to defeat it all was by relying on each other!

"Don't say that to me," I growl out. "You still love me, but you love me like a friend?! That's a bullshit answer Stan and I don't want to hear anything like that!"

"What would you rather have me say?"

"I'd rather have you flat out say you hated me rather than you still "loved" me! How…how do you expect me to take this?! We've been together for so long! I…just the other day I asked Kyle how much milk he wanted in his tea and he gave me the most confused look before saying he didn't even like tea and that if he did he certainly wouldn't want milk in it! Then I remembered that it was YOU who liked it like that! For a second I confused Kyle's likes with yours and I've been doing that the whole time he's been here!"

"Bebe-" he says quietly, but I cut him off. He doesn't deserve to talk right now, I am not finished!

"No listen! And when he was sleeping on the sofa I asked him if he wanted a second pillow because you like two pillows! And I've been nagging him about little habits he doesn't even do and he's been so _confused _and…" I take a deep breath and calm down. "My whole life…is you, and you're asking me to give it up."

I watch Stan standing where he is. He pinches the bridge of his nose, but not in annoyance like he usually does. It's in distress…I know its distress because of the lines that form on his mouth. No one else knows lines form on his mouth when he does that. Just me. Only me.

"Would you really want me back now Bebe?" He suddenly asks as he drops his hand back to his side to look at me.

I eye him suspiciously.

"It's not a trick question. Would you really want me back now? Would you want me to come back to you after knowing all this? How I really feel and that I didn't love you in the way you _deserve_ to be loved, but simply because you know my habits so well? Would you be happy that way, turning a blind eye to all that?"

I squirm and swallow a lump in my throat.

"Because," he goes on and lifts his hands in the air slightly. A sure sign of his defeat. "Because if you could deal with that, then fine…let's get back together. Let's get married Bebe."

I stare at Stan in surprise. He has that face again, his most serious one on. He's actually saying that, I'm not fantasizing about this. There isn't a glint of hesitation in his eye, he means this with all his heart. It isn't some joke to him, he's not going to say he's just kidding…

I cover my mouth with my hand and hold back a dry sob, "get out." I say quietly, darting my eyes to the side. "Get out please," I repeat.

I can feel him eyeing me carefully but he doesn't say anything. He walks right past me heading for the door just like I asked him to. I hear it open but I don't turn to see him off.

"It's not as if I don't miss your habits too," I hear him say. "Sometimes I still expect Kyle to take forever in the bathroom like you did, and okay he does but I don't see you coming out of that bathroom. Bebe…old habits do die hard, but it's not impossible. Anyway, if you change your mind you know my number," with that he leaves and I listen as the door shuts firmly behind him.

With my hand still covering my mouth I calmly sit back down on the couch and stare at the blank television screen. I'm not sure how long I sit there because the next thing I know I hear the door opening and I realize Kyle's sitting down beside me asking me something, rubbing my arms. He's such a wonderful guy…he's just like Stan, so much like him. But they're still different, they just compliment each other well, its why they were best friends…

"Bebe!" I hear him say in worry and I realize he must have said that because I've bucked over him as he holds me. I've started to cry. Really cry, like I haven't before. I hear him say my name again and hear as he fires predictable questions at me as he holds me tighter and allows me to ruin his Diesel jacket.

"He said," I manage out.

"He said what?! What did Stan say?!"

Do I hear panic in his voice? Kyle is so sweet…so sweet to be so concerned about me.

"He said he'd marry me if that's what I wanted."

I can feel Kyle tense but I'm not sure why.

"…You're sure?" He eventually asks.

"Uh huh," I start to cry harder and I feel only a little better as he soothingly runs his hand up and down my back. "But it was…he only made…Kyle, he made me realize I really have lost him. He won't ever change his mind, his heart's not coming back to me no matter what I do!"

I feel myself shaking and I feel Kyle pull away to get a good look at me. "Bebe _calm_ down," he says forcefully. He even shakes me a little and that does make me come to my senses a little bit. "Just calm down," he says this softer and more gentle and I feel the onslaught of my tears lessen. "Come on," he says he urges me to stand up. "Let's get you into bed okay? I'll fix you something to eat and then you can get some rest okay?"

I don't know if I'm nodding, but he is leading me to my room, and eventually my bed. He takes of my shoes, but other than that he tucks me and runs a hand through my hair. "I'll get you something okay?" he mutters and I feel the loss of his body heat the second he walks away from me.

Leaning my head into my pillow I let out a long sigh that's mixed with a shudder. I can't believe how out of control I got there for a minute. Crying so much without really realizing I was. I think I will take a nap, just a short one…

I don't get very far into it before I smell smoke and I remember how much Kyle can't cook. Stan told me that, Kyle told me that…and yet, he's still trying to make me something.

Even with knowing I've lost Stan I'm so happy to know I have Kyle. At least he's here for me. I couldn't ask for a better friend. Not even my girlfriends would do this much for me.

I'm not sure how long I waver in between being conscious and unconscious but at some point I register Kyle walking in. There's the sound of obvious shuffling and eventually of him dragging a chair over to my side. I turn to face him to give him a small smile.

"I'm fine," I mutter though I'm wondering if it's to him or myself.

"You're not," he responds. "But that's okay. Umm," he glances to his side and picks up a bowl that he must have rested on my tableside when he walked in. "I don't really know if you're hungry but that's what my mom always told me to do…make food for the sick…and you're not even physically sick…" he mutters.

I sit myself up and take a deep breath as I accept the bowl from him. "I could eat," I tell him and he beams slightly before slumping back into his chair after he gives me a spoon. I run my nose over the bowl and smile. "This soup smells really good Kyle, I think you're getting better."

Just as I raise the spoon to dip into the bowl he suddenly snatches the bowl from my hands. "What-" I start and I see his face redden.

"If you think that's soup you probably shouldn't eat it."

I stare at him blankly before it dawns on me, "what's it supposed to be?" I wonder curiously as I glance at the bowl that's now in his hands. It looks like soup from here.

"Never mind," he murmurs and sets it aside, taking my spoon from me as well.

Staring at this red embarrassed face I can't help but to laugh lightly, even given the situation. "How can one person be so horrible at cooking? It doesn't make any sense, everyone can make something."

Kyle frowns but it doesn't last long on his face before he's laughing too. "I can make things that don't require anything with heat, like cereal and sandwiches."

"That's good enough I suppose," I reply as my laughter dies down.

He stops as well and we're left staring at each other in silence. When he says, "oh Bebe," I realize a few tears have dropped down my face. I watch him search around my room before he stands up to grab a Kleenex to hand me. I take it in appreciation and wipe my eyes.

I drop it silently as Kyle leans over and hugs me tightly. It feels nice but I wonder if he should have done that because now I have no control over my tears again. They just keep falling and I can barely keep the muffled sobs contained as I grasp onto him tighter than he's holding me.

It's hard to categorize what I'm feeling. Everything feels numb, still slightly unreal, and I don't feel like I'll ever be able to face the word again. Not without him, not without Stan.

As I wonder how he could do this to me, and as I contemplate what it was that I did wrong. How things could have been different if I had only done this or that I realize I don't know. I thought I was doing everything right. We were so happy, so perfect…when, why did things go so bad?

I devoted my life to him, how can I…

I feel a shudder run through my body as I hiccup and swallow a sob.

Things will never be the same. I won't get through this. I simply won't. I can't do this alone; I've never really been alone.

"Bebe," my eyes widen at the sound of his voice but I calm my nerves. For a second Kyle sounded just like Stan. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. Or maybe it just sounds quiet because with all my self restraint I'm probably still being kinda loud. "I'm really sorry," he says.

He's sorry? For what? For me or the "soup?"

"I didn't mean to-" he starts again but he stops and I hear him sigh. "You're not alone okay?" He says soothing as he starts to rub my back gently. "I'll be here as long as you need me, I'll hold you as long as you want."

I don't answer him but I bury my head further into his shoulder if it all possible. Why I believe his words so much when I just thought I'd be alone I can't say. Maybe it's his tone of voice, maybe it's the way he's clutching onto me as if I'm the one comforting him. Either way it soothes me and relaxes me slightly. I feel my tears let up a little bit until they stop completely.

Long after they've stopped Kyle's still holding onto me I remember that even without Stan I'm lucky to have such a caring friend. I love him so much and I now understand why Stan had been such a wreck when Kyle left him all those years ago. I'd be a wreck if Kyle left me too.

**Stan**

"Mr. Zanadaci," I say surprised once I've climbed the stairs to the apartment. He's standing outside the door looking like he only just arrived.

"Stan," he smiles at me. "What perfect timing."

I nod absentmindedly and let the both of us inside. Tossing my keys and jacket onto the dining table I eye him curiously. "You don't usually visit in the middle of the afternoon," I point out.

"Time allowed me to do so today," he answers as I gesture for him to have a seat anywhere he'd like.

He takes my offer and sits himself down on the sofa while I stand.

"I didn't really think you would be here," he confesses. "As it is the middle of the day I had assumed you'd be at work. But I only just had a chat with my brother and he assured me you were skipping out from work despite having not called him to explain why."

I rub my eyes tiredly and mumble a, "crap." I'd forgotten about work and doing my homework and just about everything else except how to get to my home.

"No worries, I told him I planned on dropping by and that I would ease him by calling him back to assure him that you were alright…physically."

Maybe I should sit down. "Right, so…?" I let the question hang in the air.

"Ah, what I'm doing here. Well my visit is long overdue if I was supposed to visit every two weeks. I apologize for that I've been busy with a few other cases as of late. Anyway, I'm sorry to see that I wasn't able to catch Kyle. Is he at work?"

My face reddens at the mere mention of Kyle and I turn my head to the flooring, "probably." I mutter.

Zanadaci is silent for awhile before he starts asking his questions again, "how are you boys doing, well I hope?"

"We're good," I state.

"No fighting?"

"A couple, but nothing really…well, we're fine Mr. Zanadaci."

Mhmm," he says. "Pardon me for saying so, and I do hope I'm wrong but I have a rather distinct feeling that Kyle doesn't currently live here."

How he picked up on that I have no idea. It's not as if anything of his is missing from the living room.

"…he's not…technically."

He waits for me to expand my answer even though I was hoping that he'd be okay with what I just told him.

"He's…" I pause. "Staying with my ex-fiancée for awhile."

"Staying with…your _ex-fiancée_?"

I nod and for a second I could swear I see him look confused.

"I'm sorry Stan I feel as if I'm missing something. Has Kyle and your ex…?"

"Oh, no," I answer. "They're not…no, but they're really good friends, like I've told you before. And…it's sort of a long story."

"I see…Kenny spoke of her. Bebe is her name?"

"Yeah…he probably didn't speak of her fondly did he?"

"Kenny was civil."

"That's him alright."

He stands and I'm instantly relieved to realize this is only a short visit. "I'm very pleased to see that you can mention Kenny without…"

"Bursting into tears?" I joke but not really finding the humor in it. "I am better, mostly because of Kyle. He…" I think about Kyle for a minute and what he did to help me not really get over Kenny's death, but help me accept it and it's hard to think it over in a nutshell. Especially since I'm not sure when thinking of Kenny didn't leave me in complete pain.

"…I see," Zanadaci mumbles. "You and Kyle are doing _quite _well together I assume, even with him living at Bebe's. Though do make sure he isn't there too long, we wouldn't want it to fall under a breach of contract with Kenny's will."

I snap out of my reverie and nod to him. He's looking at me oddly and if he had it in him I feel like he'd tilt his head at me for further study. But at seeing a gleam in his eyes I think he found whatever he was searching for…it makes me wonder...

"I'll be back sooner rather than later as I'd like to talk with Kyle. Perhaps I'll call him," he says more to himself as he heads for the door. "I'm sorry to hear about you and your fiancée Stan. I don't suppose there will be any changes of heart?"

My mind wanders back to what I only just did what seems like days ago. The choice I gave Bebe…I shake my head. "No, we won't be getting back together. We both know it's over."

"You look to be taking it well."

"I was the one that…well, broke things off."

"And her, how is she taking things?"

"As best as she can I guess…"

He opens the front door for himself, "meaning not well I wager?" I shake my head. "Then it's a good thing," he pauses for a moment. "That she has as good as a friend as Kyle to help her through this difficult time. I'll see you again Stan," he smiles and closes the door behind him.

Eyeing the closed door for a second I turn back to face my entire apartment. It's not as if I don't know the situation with Kyle and Bebe, after all I hated it in the beginning. I don't even like it now, but I accept it since there's nothing else I can do about it.

I wander over to where I had discarded my cell phone and pick it up off the table. I'd like to call him right now. If nothing else to hear his voice and maybe assure myself that what happened earlier today really did happen. But I don't want to seem needy. I've already put him in a tight spot, I don't want him to feel suffocated all of a sudden.

Though I do want to move forward. I really do want to call him and I am getting the urge to see him as well. But he probably is at work…

Fuck it. I quickly dial his number before I change my mind and I almost grin as he picks up, but before I can say a word he speaks first.

"You'll marry Bebe if she chose too huh?" His voice is strained and quiet. At his words I close my eyes and wonder how I thought for even a second that he wouldn't find out.

It's not even that I didn't think he'd find out, I knew he would, but I…

"What made you think that'd be a good thing to say to her?" He goes on to question, but it's not a question because I can feel that he doesn't want an answer. "This situation….between us…" I hold my breath. "Is fucked up for more than one reason. I can't believe that you'd _say _that to her."

He's sentences aren't connecting, he's just going back in forth in topics but I am following.

"So fucked up," he breathes out. "But I…I still want to…"

"Me too," I say quietly in relief.

"And even if what you said to her was so _stupid _and just…I don't know what the hell you were thinking, but at the same time I do know what you were thinking. You said that to her to get her to realize that you guys really were through, but damn, Stan! Couldn't you have worded it better without offering a re-engagement for fucks sake?!"

I'm quiet because I can't agree with him. My decision in choosing to marry Bebe again if she agreed to was the best one for her, for us. Like Kyle said it's the only way she would understand. The only way. She wouldn't have said yes.

"She could barely stop crying you know," he says his tone changing. "I hate you right now for being the cause of that. Bebe was only just able to fall asleep…"

He's silent on his end and I stay silent on mine, waiting for him to say he's through with my bullshit.

"Even so…" he says hesitantly. "Do you want to…meet somewhere tonight? Just for a little while? I want to ask you something, but not over the phone."

"…you don't want to come over here?"

"It's better that I don't."

I want to ask why he thinks that but I decide against it. "Do you want to meet in front of Cherry Kiss then?" I question.

"Uhm, yeah that works. Can you be there in fifteen?"

"Yeah," I nod carefully. "Kyle?" I question.

"Huh?"

"Am I…am I going to like what you have to say to me?"

I hear nothing on his end of the line for entirely too long. At the silence I feel my stomach start to twist into knots.

"Meet me there in fifteen okay Stan?" He finally says and disconnects our call.

**-FG**

**AN: **I started classes! Whee! Finally, I get so bored during summer. Anyway if you think that means this story will be updated even slower than it already is you might be right and you might be wrong. I do a lot of things to avoid doing homework, writing is often included.


	36. Kyle and Stan VII

**AN: **It's been somewhat of a hellish past few weeks AND I have a sore throat to boot. So due to my not being able to talk, I figured I'd buckle down and write this chapter in order to allow the countdown to the last few chapters to continue. Thanks for all the reviews over the past few weeks everyone, they make crappy weeks a little better. :)

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

I am a horrible, _horrible _person.

I kissed my closest friends ex-fiancée and therefore have a special spot in hell for others just like me. Maybe I could have avoided it, and by it I mean hell, if I was truly sorry for what I did, if it _was_ an accident. But it wasn't an accident, Stan and I planned the kiss, we agreed on it together. And to say I'm sorry for it? Well…I'm sorry it was Bebe's ex, but I'm not sorry it was Stan. So maybe I'm not really sorry at all?

When I got back to work after…hanging out with Stan, Chef was none too pleased with me. If we didn't have such history he probably would have fired me. By the time I rolled back into work I'd been gone for three hours. I'm surprised he didn't ask me to explain myself, though he did glare at me.

It was Craig who was more verbal about it.

"Where the _fuck've_ you been?!" He said first thing to me when I walked in. His arms were covered in plates, and he seemed a little too distracted to really be bothered with where I was. But he quickly dropped off his plates before dragging me into the back room. "Well?" He demanded. "I've been busting my ass here, breaking a sweat and you come in JUST as the rush has been served. I thought you'd be gone an hour and a half tops, but over three?!"

"I-"

"And no bullshit responses either, I don't have time to coax it out of you. We have to get back on the floor before Chef sacks us both."

I avoided his demanding eyes and grabbed my apron from where I left it earlier, "I ran into Stan when I was about to leave our apartment," I told him. Craig knew why Chef let me have an extended lunch break. He knew it was so I could go gather the rest of my things without running into Stan…or so was the intention.

"So?" He spit out annoyed. "Did you guys get into an argument or something, is that it?"

"…no we didn't argue," I said as I grabbed my notebook and flipped it to an empty page before stuffing it in my apron.

"Then _what_?" He questioned crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes suddenly widened and he stood up a little straighter. "Holy shit…" he muttered

I froze in my actions and took a few shallow breaths.

"Did he…hit you?" He asked, and at that I felt the relief surge through me. I was so wrapped up in his false guess that I didn't even correct him. Before I knew it he was tearing off his apron and grabbing his jacket.

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked when I came too.

"To kick his fucking ass! How dare he hit you? What kind of friend is that? I mean Token hits me all the time but I usually deserve it and besides, Token's hits are _nothing _in comparison to Stan's. He's got star pitcher power behind that right fist, and it hurts like a fucking bitch!"

"Whoa dude," I said as I grabbed a hold of Craig's arm. "He didn't hit me. If he hit me you'd notice wouldn't you?"

He looked somewhat skeptical, but he roamed his eyes over my face and my body before he seemingly relaxed. "That's true…but then what happened? Spit it out already!"

I have few secrets in my life. I don't usually mind sharing things with people but what happened between Stan and I…I wouldn't mind if that stayed between the two of us. At least until we sorted it all out, but Craig was looking grim and I felt like if I _didn't _tell him he'd still storm over to Stan's like I was some princess in distress and beat the shit out of him anyway.

"We ah,-"

"If you two sorry excuses for waiters don't get the hell out here in five seconds you're both fired!" Chef took that moment to stick his head in the back to say that and then quickly disappeared. I took his cue, gave Craig an apologetic look and headed right onto the floor.

"B-but, hey!" I heard him say as I walked to the nearest table of people.

The rest of my shift was brutal with Craig giving me looks and Chef glaring at us both. Luckily for me I knew I'd find relief when the girls came in.

When they came in things were starting to slow down and there was time for idle talk and less working. The second they took their seats Craig practically leapt over to them and plopped himself down next to Porscha, who didn't look that pleased.

The girls haven't ever seemed particularly fond of Craig, and he's never been oblivious to that fact and yet that was the first time he had invited himself over to their table. I was prepared to rescue the girls when Craig glanced over at me as he spoke.

"Kyle vanished for three hours with Stan and he's yet to tell me why, I wonder if you gals can drag it out of him," and with that he slid off his chair, gave me a smirk and proceeded back to work.

Three pairs of eyes slowly turned toward me and while Porscha and Lexus didn't seem as if anything was off about it where I had been and who I was with, Mercedes…well, looked like Mercedes and there was something gleaming in her eye. She was smiling like she knew exactly where I was and what I was doing but to my surprise she didn't ask about it. None of the girls did, they simply asked for their orders before talking about the newest trends from Donna Karan.

After I had sent in their order I made sure to give Craig a smirk back to let him know he wouldn't be find out anything unless I told him. And I did plan to, just not that moment.

Work for the remainder of the day didn't get any better after the girls left. Craig kept hounding me every chance he could and finally, in front of a customer no less, I yelled at him. "I'll fucking tell you later okay?!"

All eyes ended up being on me and I hadn't been that embarrassed for such a long time. I had decided to go to the back to calm down a little. When I felt ready enough to face the floor again my cell phone went off flashing Bebe's number.

"What's up Bebe?" I asked, trying not to think that just a few hours earlier I had been making out with the guy she still loved.

"Kyle! I'm so glad I caught you, do you mind maybe going over to Craig's or something for a few hours rather than coming back here when you get off work?"

"Uh," I paused. "Sure, I guess I can do that…why, what's going on?"

"Stan's coming over to talk with me! I think this is going to be it Kyle! This is my chance and I'll bet he's come to his senses now! I'm kinda nervous you know?" She laughed hesitantly into the phone and I swallowed a lump in my throat.

"I'd be too," I muttered back halfhearted, but reassuring all the same.

We hung up, I let Craig know, and he said begrudgingly that I could come over for awhile. I can't even remember what I did at Craig's, but I'm pretty sure it involved him still trying to pry me for information and me worrying over what Stan and Bebe were doing.

I actually didn't like the idea of them being together, alone. Though I wasn't sure for what exact reason. If because I was afraid Stan would be his usual blunt self and say something without thinking, or if because I was afraid Bebe would miraculously get through to Stan and have him take her back. Oddly enough I was a bit of a wreck and after two hours I said my lame excuse for a goodbye to Craig before I bolted out his door and drove to Bebe's.

To say I was completely appalled at the sight the sight that greeted me when I first walked in would probably be a lie. As much of a bastard as it makes me, I was a little…relieved to see her crying. Crying meant Stan hadn't taken her back. But my conscious was pretty quick in giving me a kick in the ass and I immediately settled over her to comfort her.

She told me everything I expected her to say expect for one minor detail.

That Stan told her he would take her back if she was okay with the idea of being with someone that could never love her correctly. I was kind of a mess at hearing that. I was pissed at Stan for his wording, though I understood it, and I felt awful for Bebe. And for a second I wondered what would have happened if Bebe had agreed, what would that have meant? That everything Stan and I did, and said earlier was null and void?

I didn't want that…

It made it harder to soothe her, to be the supporting friend, but I did the best I could and if her clinging to me meant anything I think I can say that I was of help. When her crying started to get he best of her I made her go lie down, promising to bring her something to eat even though I couldn't cook shit.

As I attempted to labor away at her meal I could only think of Stan, even though Bebe was still crying. It sort of made me question what I was doing, and who I was becoming by doing it.

After I gave her the meal, and after taking it away when she assumed it was soup, I let her sleep and chose to stare at my phone.

"What am I doing?" I asked myself as I stared into Bebe's blank television screen. I was trying to make sense of that earlier afternoon all the while trying to remember my role as a good friend. Somewhere in the thinking about both those things I realized something.

For as much as I cared about Bebe, I cared twice as much for the what could be with Stan. I had made my decision. All the same, even with what I was feeling for Stan, I wouldn't allow it to be that simple. I couldn't.

I had to ask him something, I had to be sure he stood where I stood, and that he knew where this would take us and if he could possibly be willing to stop our progression if it came to that. Because if we had to…I would. I just cant be that cruel, I can't be that selfish.

**Stan**

I park my car at the side parking lot of Cherry Kiss and wait inside for Kyle to arrive. I'm a little early due to my nervousness at his sudden call on getting together here. Eventually my agitation gets to be too much and I decide that what I could with is some fresh air. I step outside my car and sit down on my hood looking down the dark and deserted main street of downtown. If this were any other town besides South Park I might not be so casual about staying out here in the dead of the night. But since it is my hometown the only thing I have to worry about are all the drunken fools that I've known since childhood.

When I see a car make a right turn and head straight for me the lights blinding me slightly, I swallow the lump in my throat and wait for Kyle to park his car. He's relatively quick about it and I watch as he stretches out of his Hybrid with…a basketball under his arm.

He's dressed in a track suit and I eye him confused. He tosses the ball lightly in the air before looking at me. "Is there anywhere we can play on a court?"

"Wh-right now?" I bumble out and he nods. "Umm…" Of course there are places to play but he's lost me. He called me out here, sounding like this was going to be one of those infamous talks from daytime television and he only wants to play basketball? At eleven thirty pm? "The elementary school," I toss out.

"It's lit at night?" He asks doubtfully and I realize he's right.

"The high school then. They keep one on to watch out for vandalism and stuff like that…you want to play basketball?"

"Yeah," he says heading for my car and I get the impression that I'm driving and we're leaving his car here for the time being. "I haven't played since I've been here. I've been antsy to get on a court again."

"Um…okay," I say slowly and we head into my car. Driving to the high school I keep looking over at Kyle, wondering what the hell he's doing. Is he avoiding what he wants to ask me? I want to ask him about it, but he looks so…content. As if he hadn't just called me out here to talk but to honestly play a one-on-one game.

When we pile out and head for the court, Kyle marvels at South Parks high school and I remember that the high school didn't exist when he was here. They built it when we were in middle school when they realized there was nowhere for us all to go in a few years.

"Not bad," he says looking around once we reach the court. I watch him peel off the track jacket and dribble the ball in an almost experimental way. "Do you want first possession?" he asks and I stare at him.

He honest to God really wants to play a _basketball _game?

"You honest to God want to play basketball?" I voice my thoughts out loud and for some reason he looks momentarily surprised, but he quickly nods.

"Yeah, it'll be interesting. You don't want to play?"

I shake my head, "Kyle its not that I don't want to play I just…I thought you called me out here to talk, not play around."

"I'm getting there," he mutters. "But I kinda need a bit more time to…get the courage to say it."

My heart rate increases ten fold at what he said. It sounded bad and good. "You can have first possession," I manage out and he nods giving me a small smile.

"That's your first mistake," he replies as we get into position. I give him a confused look and without much warning we start.

Kyle was always good at basketball when we were kids, and he had said he played intramurals at Stanford but fucking hell I didn't realize he was _this _good. After about a half hour he's successfully ahead of me by twenty-two points. It's not even because he's stopping me from making baskets, it just when he makes one it always goes in.

"You're not going pro, _why_?" I press exhaustedly when he steals a ball from me. I hadn't even seen him.

"I'm too short, that and I don't normally play this well."

"Are you saying I'm a lousy player?" I ask bluntly, frowning.

"I'm saying there are other things besides my skill fueling me right now, that's all."

I sigh and watch Kyle make another basket.

He grabs the ball and whips around dribbling it toward me. He's taking in a few deep breathes and I'm doing the same, though his eyes are far from mine. "You know what I decided when I admitted to myself that I had left you behind eleven years ago?"

He turns back to the basket and aims before taking another shot. It goes in, like all the others in a perfect release. Another air ball.

"I told myself," he goes on when I don't answer. I'm still trying to catch my breath. "That I would never betray another friend. Never." I watch him as he picks it up from rolling on the cheap cement job. "If you were in my position what would you do?" he asks abruptly. "If this was between Kenny and Bebe, like it is for me being you and Bebe. "

"It's different," I say finally managing out something.

"How?" he questions fingering the little round bumps on the basketball. I guess we're done playing.

"_Because _I don't…I mean, I don't…it's hard to say."

"Then give it a shot."

I almost want to glare at him. He knows damn well what I want to say but cant exactly form into words right in his criticizing face.

"You know I don't feel the same way I did about Kenny that I do for you. It's completely different…" I mutter.

"And if it wasn't?" he prods. "We both already know who you would choose, who you _did _choose."

"Kyle I-"

"I mean lets be realistic about this for a second. For now lets think about the people around us, everyone who would be affected," he snorts. "I'd be damn lucky if Bebe ever talked to me again. We both risk a huge amount of disapproval just for that alone. And what are we going to tell our parents? I know your mom and dad are pretty cool. My dad might not mind but my mom…hell I don't even want to think about that right now, but I go home in one month Stan. ONE MONTH. What then? I'll be back in California and you'll be here. What do we do about that distance? The physical distance of 1300 miles that's going to be between us? What's the point of even starting anything? We might as well save a lot of people a lot of heartache and not even bother."

I grab a hold of his shoulders to stop his reasoning, forcing him to look me in the eye and causing him to drop the basketball. "What about _our _heartache?" I question in a low voice. "I understand where you're coming from Kyle, I do. No, I haven't thought about it as much as you because I haven't cared. I've been more interested in you, in the fact that we could be an _us _if we wanted. What I'm feeling, for you of all people is so new to me! Its new and weird, and confusing, and really uncomfortable at times. But it's exciting and for the love of God I'm happy at the idea of trying something with you. Anything with you, even if we have to deal with distance, and Bebe, and people not liking it. Nothing ever stopped us from doing what we wanted to do when we were kids, why should that be any different now?"

"…because we're eleven years older and wiser."

I shake him very lightly and he frowns, "Kyle." I breathe out. "We're only nineteen. We can still afford to be a little selfish, at least for a little bit longer."

I feel him slump slightly against my hold and I don't even hesitate in pulling him toward me.

"I haven't asked you want I wanted to ask you yet," he says resisting my pull and standing firm where he is.

"And what's that?" I question wondering how that entire array of questions he just asked couldn't be one of them.

"I'd already made up my mind when I called you," he admits looking down at the cement. "Even with all the shit we're going to have to deal with…I still really want to do this with you. Be an _us _and all that…" he mutters.

I feel myself grin and I don't try to contain it, "then what's your question? Did you bring me out here just to psyche me out?"

"No, I wanted to be sure that you really wanted to do this, do you?" he meets my eye again.

"Of course," I mutter dropping my arms from his shoulders and starting to rub his arms. "Of course I do."

"…good." He gives me a warm smile and I start to get lost in a whirl of returning emotions. Questions fill my head, thoughts of what he just said, everything that could possibly go wrong, but its all irrelevant because he and I are –

"There is a catch though," he suddenly breaks into my thoughts and my arms freeze from their movements.

Kyle backs away from my grasp and rubs the back of his neck looking off and slightly more uncomfortable.

"Catch?" I repeat and sounding like something got caught in my throat.

"Yeah."

I hold back the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. "And what's this catch?" I ask.

"You," he starts as he turns away and goes to retrieve the long forgotten basketball that's lying to the side of us. "You were able to choose someone over the other when it came down to it. You told me you could pick Kenny over Bebe…and that's where we differ. I cant…I cant _pick _you over her."

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said, and I know what I want to do…and I'd be more than willing to go through with it but…"

"But?"

"I want Bebe to be okay with us. I want her permission otherwise I won't even be able to look at myself."

"Her…_permission_?" I say slowly, trying to digest his wording.

"I've thought about it all day and I've realized this is what I have to do to be able to accept myself, to be with you."

"Her permission…you want Bebe's permission…" I mutter.

"I do."

"She won't give it to us," I tell him dumbly.

"You don't know-"

"Yeah, I do."

"She might."

"She wont."

"You don't know that!"

"Why would she?!" I suddenly yell. "What kind of person would? What girl would give her best friend her blessing to being with her ex-fiancée who she still has damn strong feelings of love for?!"

"And what kind of person," he yells back and whips around to face me. "Would go off with their best friends ex-fiancée? A fucking prick, that's who! A goddamn liar, a bastard, a heartless good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch that should die and go to fucking hell! That would be me Stan! If we went ahead anyway without Bebe's support that would be me! I don't want that to be me!" His voice starts to lose its edge and tone and his shoulders begin to slump again, and the ball drops from his grasp rolling away…

He isn't facing me again and from the look of things he's probably rubbing his eyes in wariness.

Watching him stand there in the darkness with only the little bit of artificial light oddly enough makes me feel lonely. I can't help it. Not just that but I'm frustrated, more than I should be. I want to move on, with him. But I understand what he's going through.

If only we hadn't separated, if only I hadn't gotten involved with Bebe. If only he hadn't gotten involved with Bebe. The 'if onlys' are endless.

I take a few steps toward him and stop when I'm a foot away.

"I don't want to be that guy," he says again, this time quietly and I find myself reaching an arm out toward him. It lowers before it makes contact and I take in an inner deep breath before taking that one extra foot forward and encasing him in my arms.

He tenses in surprise but at least, I think to myself, he's willing to lean in toward me. Though I wonder if it's a conscious move or not…

"I know…I wouldn't want you to be him either. And…you could be right. Bebe could…she could be okay with this." I say weakly, not believing a word of it and tightening my grip around Kyle. I feel like if I don't do it now I might not ever. Not a single part of me believes Bebe will approve.

It could be because of our close proximity, or maybe its because I really feel like I'm actually going to lose Kyle before I've even had him. Or maybe its because of all the emotions, or the surrounding environment of being alone in the middle of the night. Either way without thinking too much on it I turn my head slightly and kiss the base of his neck, nuzzling it slightly as I brush my nose over it and nudging aside his hair.

He doesn't tense, but I hear his breathing hitch and become a little raspier. He doesn't tell me to stop, but I won't disregard what he already said about not being _that guy. _Nevertheless I want to stay like this just for a while longer, just in case we don't get to experience this again.

I kiss his neck a few more times and again he doesn't tell me to stop, but with a heavy heart I realize besides the change of breathing he isn't going to respond. I guess it's the only way he's controlling himself. He won't stop me, but he wont exactly encourage me either.

"Kyle I-" I suddenly say and stop all at once. "I…" I what? I don't know what I'm trying to say. I drop my head dejectedly on the base of his shoulder beside the neck I was kissing only a few seconds ago.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he says. "I haven't forgotten the agreement so…I'll be back tomorrow."

I tighten my grip once more around him and take a second to take a slightly deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious that I'm breathing in his scent. "Okay," I say hesitantly and release him from my hold.

"Let's give Bebe a week, just one before I…approach her about this," he says.

"Sure," I respond knowing I'd probably say sure to anything he asked of me at this moment.

The two of us are silent. I can't think of anything to say and neither does Kyle it seems. He abruptly turns back to face me and I'm curious at his smile.

"If we played for an additional hour do you think you'd catch up to me?"

I shake my head and try to hide my disappointed smile by aiming my head downward. Basketball. Our change of subject.

"I wouldn't be able to catch up if you gave me two. You're going to have to stop playing so well," I try to joke.

"Then that'd be like letting you win."

"I have no problems with that."

I'm surprised when I feel him lift my face up. His eyes grove over mine, going back and forth. He's looking for something…and all I can do is stare back. I'm even more surprised when he leans in and captures my mouth on his. But it's so fast, and so sudden that I don't even get the chance to respond before he's jogged away to retrieve the goddamn basketball again.

When he turns back around to toss me the ball I give him a questionable look and he shrugs, not bothering to hide his blush.

"One for the road, you know? Just in case…"

I nod slowly before I shake myself out of the daze. Grinning, I check the ball back to him. "I have one hour to kick your ass."

"Don't you mean one hour to not make an ass of yourself? You _are_ twenty-four points behind me," he laughs as I growl at him and get ready to defend my basket.

As we go back to our one on one game and Kyle goes back to handing my ass to me. I decide that if things don't go the way we'd like them to, that this is okay. It's not what I'd want, and it's not what he'd want, but it'd be okay. It'd be better than nothing.

Now all I have to do is try to believe my own words. It'll be hard for me to honestly feel like I'm cool with what's happened.

After having Kyle for such a short amount of time and knowing the experience of it? How the hell could I possibly go back to being just friends? I'd almost think that if I couldn't have him, it'd have been better if he'd never come back to South Park at all. But just almost.

"We should head back, it's getting late," Kyle says as I make a basket some hour later.

I nod in agreement. Our final score? It's not even worth repeating.

As I end up pulling beside Kyle's car in the parking lot that we had left it at I wait for him to leave. Instead he sits where he is looking straight ahead and I'm reminded of something Kenny had said in a similar situation as this.

"_I'm not giving you the awkward goodbye kiss," _he had said. Or something like it. The thought makes me want to laugh so I do. Kyle turns to look at me, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

After I've chuckled a little more I let him know. "I was reminded of something Kenny had said to me awhile back," I say and enlighten Kyle on the memory. "It was the same night he had told me that he had written a will," I finish no longer finding the memory amusing.

"I wish I could have joked like that with him," Kyle says lightly and I glance at him.

"Yeah, his humor was one in a million. He knew just how to make you laugh _and_ how to push your buttons."

"…he's everything to you isn't he?"

I nod without hesitation, "he was."

For some reason Kyle beams at me and as I'm about to ask him what for, he leans over to slowly to meet our lips. He stays there for a long time, with his lips just touching mine without any sort of movement before he slowly drags his lips down slightly, kissing my bottom lip firmly.

"Another for the road?" I question softly when he pulls back, but still close enough for me to be eyeing his lips wanting more.

"Something like that," he responds before opening his passenger door. I grab a hold his wayward left arm before he can leave my car.

"She might say no," I tell him referring to Bebe.

He glances over at me after he's looked at something I can't see for a moment. "She might say yes," he responds before gently pulling his arm away. "Goodnight Stan, I'll see you tomorrow."

I give him a slight wave rather than verbally returning the departure and watch as he hops back into his white car. He starts it and takes off without a moments pause. Rather than follow suit, I sit in my car for a second and think about what he said.

Kyle said that Bebe _might _say yes. Not that she would. He never said she would. It seems he doesn't believe his own words either, which makes me more uneasy than I want to be. Even though I know Bebe wont agree to this, a part of me felt a little better at the idea if Kyle believed it. But he doesn't, and I don't know what to think.

**-FG**

**AN: **Hmm…I've been wondering…where do you all live? I'm starting to get the impression that quite a number of you guys don't live in the same country as I do. Its curiosity really, you don't have to tell and if you choose to I don't need to know your exact location. A country or even a continent will suffice :)


	37. Kyle and Stan VIII

**AN: **I wanted to have this posted by my birthday which was on the 30th of October like I do every year but, that obviously didn't happen. Anyway thanks for sharing your location in the world everyone!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

I slowly unlock the door with the extra key Bebe gave me. I don't want to alert her that I'm back. I don't want her to even know I was out. I feel kinda like a teenager who's trying to sneak back into their house undetected by their parents.

Closing the door carefully I let out a soft exhale when the door's been successfully locked without much noise. Halfway turned around I jump in surprise and let out a sharp, "fuck!"

Forcing my heard rate to decrease I flick on the light to the side and eye Bebe warily. "Do you like sneaking up on people?" I ask her as I slide past her to dump my basketball to the side. I hadn't even heard her!

"Sorry," she says softly.

"What's up?" I ask as if I didn't just try and fail to sneak back in her place.

She's quiet for a minute before speaking up. "I can't sleep," she finally says and I turn to face her as I peel off my jacket. It's incredibly hard to look her in the eye right now, but I manage and at once notice she has that dejected look on her face.

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing different from the usual, but…my mom called while you were out."

"…yeah?"

"She and uh, she and Mrs. Marsh were talking earlier today. They want to know why they haven't seen me and Stan lately. I wasn't quite sure what to tell them. It only made me realize that I have a lot of people to tell. All those people we invited to the wedding and stuff…our friends and family."

With a tired sigh I plop down on the couch and Bebe does the same, taking the spot beside me.

"This sucks," she says after a moment.

Surprised by her choice of words I turn to glance at her. She's looking down at her lap before she meets my eyes. "Want to watch a movie?" she asks and I nod slowly. "Any suggestions?"

I glance at Bebe's collection of DVD's. They're all chickish flicks, except for one. I raise an eyebrow before turning back to look at her, "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?"

"I have a soft spot for Sean Connery."

I smile tiredly, "me too."

With that she places it in and we settle further into the couch. As the opening music starts Bebe asks without looking at me, "Where were you anyway?"

"Playing basketball with Stan," I tell her honestly. She doesn't look at me, but she doesn't seem surprised or confused at the idea that Stan and I got together at eleven at night to play basketball. In fact we both remain completely silent throughout the movie and the last thing I remember is the League entering Dorian Gray's house only to be ambushed…

When my internal clock wakes me up I notice a few things at once. That the television is off, that Bebe is gone, and that there's a heavy blanket draped over my body. Before I even get the chance to get my brain to completely wake up my cell rings and I dig it out from my pants pocket. It shouldn't be Chef as I have today off.

"Kyle?"

"Craig," I say back and yawn into the phone. "What's up?"

"I don't work today let's do something that friends are supposed to do outside of work."

I yawn again, "but I don't work today," I state as I lift the covers closer to my neck. It's freezing in here.

"I figured since you answered the phone."

"What I'm getting at is if I don't work today then you must."

"Dude don't you remember? Chef closed up shop for some…voodoo ritual thing he has to go to for his parents' sake."

"Oh," I remember him telling me that a few weeks back but I hadn't really been paying much attention. "His parents are still alive?"

"Yeah, so let's get together. Token can probably ditch work for a few hours too."

"Mhm," I rub my face into the arm of the couch. "Okay," I mumble. "What do you want to do?"

"Token's dad got the new advanced version of the Playstation 56, and some of the tester games. Want to fool around with those?"

"The new PS 56?" My head perks up. "But that's not supposed to be out for two more months."

"That's the perks of being friends with a ridiculously rich person. Be there in an hour okay?"

"I don't know how to get there."

"What do you mean you don't know how to get there?" He chides. "It's the giant house that overlooks the town, you can't miss it. Oh! And while we're all playing videogames you can tell me all about what happened with you and Stan the other day just like you promised! Later Kyle!" He ends our connection and I'm left staring at the phone's flashing minutes before I drop it on the side table perpendicular to the couch.

Stan…

I brush over my lips briefly before dropping my hand back down to its side. I don't want to think about Stan right now. Or Bebe for that matter, or how I'm going to muster up the balls to tell Bebe about me and Stan.

I definitely don't want to tell Craig about it…or Token, but I guess I did tell him I would so I can't really back out of it…or I could…no. Craig would just hound me. It's best to get it over with.

With that resolve I fling off the covers and stand up so I can take a shower and get ready to leave. Heading toward the bathroom my eyes land on a note taped to the wall left by Bebe. It just explains that she's at class and that she'll see me later tonight. Nothing more, but its when I realize that I haven't told her that last night was my last night here. Damnit. There's just too much on my mind right now!

Letting out a frustrated groan to myself I quickly hop in the shower and get ready faster than I ever thought I could. I feel like the faster I get out of here, the faster any thoughts of Bebe and Stan will vanish…at least for a bit of time until I'm confronted with Craig's goddamn nosiness.

When I'm out of the apartment, heading down the main road in South Park I look each and every way for this supposed "obvious" house that belongs to Token's family. I see nothing. Sighing in aggravation I pull the car over and extract my cell from my coat pocket. Deciding I might as well get a few breaths of fresh air I even step out of my car and lean on it as I dial for Craig.

He doesn't pick up and rather than leaving a message I hang up the phone, frowning at it. I don't think I have Token's number…I guess I could call Stan, but no. Bebe's surely busy…maybe Mercedes has his number. As I start to scroll down my contacts list I get the strong feeling that I'm being stared at.

Glancing up from what I was doing I peek around. No one seems to be directly looking at me. Everyone on the street seems to have their own destination in mind, whether they are alone, with associates, or with family members. No one looks to be paying any sort of special attention to me. Shrugging it off as nothing I go back to scrolling down my phone list, but the feeling of being watched never goes away and I stop and pointedly look around again, even twisting my body a little bit.

That's when I see him. Standing a few blocks away, on the other side of the street with one hand holding a Wall Street Journal is Eric Cartman.

It's hard to think that I've actually completely forgotten about him, even being back in South Park. Yes he was mentioned but rarely, and when I think about it I never actually SAW him. Not even when he should have been leaving Kenny's funeral. I had sort of been distracted with the thought of having showed up too late to really focus on who was leaving, then again I would have figured he would have said something to me…maybe he didn't recognize me.

But the way he's looking at me now, he definitely knows who I am. He more or less looks exactly the same, though older of course. The weight he had as a kid seems to have spread somewhat evenly over the rest of his body…but he's still on the fat side.

I wonder if anyone is watching us. We're just staring at each other, barely blinking and I'm not sure what I should do. It's not like I was ever friends with the guy, so there shouldn't be any heartfelt 'where have you been's', at the same time we DID hang out. Friends or not.

From here, he looks to be contemplating the same thing I am. Before I can think of a response, the shrill sound of my phone goes off and I jump before answering it.

"Hey what'd you call me for?" It's Craig, and my eyebrows furrow in annoyance as I glance downward at my shoes.

"You said Token's place would be noticeable. Well I'm downtown and I don't see it at all."

"Really?" he questions, actually sounding surprised.

"Rea-" I glance back toward where Cartman should be standing and stop mid sentence when I see that he's vanished. My eyes roam over the general area, but he's nowhere in sight and I no longer feel like I'm being stared at. I guess he had someplace to be. "Uh, anyway, just give me some normal directions," I finish to Craig.

He rattles off on how to get to Tokens and I head back into my car intent on getting there without any other stops. Though I noticed, as I pull into Tokens circular driveway, that while I had been focused on the road I had been looking out for Cartman. I almost want to cross paths with the guy, but just almost.

I don't see Craig's car anywhere as I park and walk toward the double doors. Knocking I wait patiently and when Token opens the door he looks fairly surprised and confused.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I respond and wait for him to invite me in.

"I didn't think you remembered where I lived."

"Craig told me."

He doesn't say anything but he nods, "was there anything in particular you wanted?" he asks as he steps back and allows me to enter his house.

"I thought Craig said to meet here so we could play your PS 56."

"Did he?" I hear Token's dry voice and watches as he closes the door. "He could have told _me _that."

I hold back a snort of laughter, "you mean he didn't clear it with you first?"

Before he can answer there's a loud and demanding knock on the door Token only just closed. He opens it with a sigh and Craig bounds in with a grin, "hey guys!"

"I was working," his friend says in way of a greeting.

"You probably need the break, and we haven't spent much time with Kyle lately so I invited him over as well."

"…I was working," he repeats as if that answers everything.

"And you probably needed the break," Craig pauses from taking off his jacket. "Right?"

I look over at Token seeing him frown. He doesn't nod in agreement, but he seems to relax and as he closes his front door again I notice Craig beam.

"You guys are an odd pair," I find myself saying. They exchange looks and Token snorts as he looks away while Craig grins and starts heading for a room toward the left.

"I could say that about you and Stan," Token responds as he keeps in step with me and as we follow Craig.

"I could say a lot about you and Stan. But let's start with the obvious. What happened with you two that day you were three hours late to work?"

Any amusement I just had about the two of them vanishes, "I thought we were here to play videogames?"

"That was just a cover up," Craig tells me laughing as he slides into a very long and very expensive looking couch. "Though we can play if you want." He glances over at Token whose arms are crossed as he leans against a column. "Can you get the console for us? I don't know where you keep it."

Token doesn't look happy at the idea of having to go fetch something in his own house but he does so without complaint. Craig watches after him and once it seems as if Token's completely out of earshot he turns back to me.

"You and Stan _are_okay though right? Nothing like how you guys started out? No fighting or anything right?"

I shake my head and see the instant relief on Craig's face. "Is that what you thought?" I ask.

He nods, "I really didn't want things to go back to how they used to be between you two. It was tense and awkward."

"I'll bet," I say remembering back to those times. Was it really only a few months ago? It seems like years ago.

"Anyway, so what happened?" he prods.

"You don't want to wait for Token?"

"Do you want Token to know; are you that comfortable with him?"

I think about it for a moment. "Not really…but I had been prepared to tell you both. I didn't want to exclude him and…it's not that big of a deal," I mutter the last part to myself.

"I'm sure Stan will indulge Token anyway. Besides he left us without a fuss for a reason, it'll probably take him a nice half hour to find that console even though he knows exactly where it is. So what happened?"

Deciding not to bother with trying to figure out Craig and Token's intricate and complex relationship I take a seat across from Craig, inhale a deep breath and start to tell him.

"Wait-" Craig stops me the second I've told him that Stan and I kissed. I really would have preferred if he had stopped anywhere else but there. "What kind of kiss? There are kisses on the cheek, European kisses, and like…swallowing each other's salvia kisses."

I furrow my brows in slight disgust, "I guess the third one then." I rub a nonexistent itch my shoulder and look away. My skin no longer has that healthy bronze California glow. I know its pale now, which makes my blushes easier to see.

"Whoa," he breathes out and leans back on the couch. "That's intense."

"It was," I murmur.

"Stan just attacked you?"

"He didn't…attack me," I muster out. "He just…"

"Got overly excited?"

"Carried away," I correct him. "But it's not like I wasn't just as eager you know?"

"So," he sits himself back up and fixes a hard stare at me. "What's that mean? What about Bebe, what are Stan and you going to do now? Are you guy's passionately in love or what?"

"We're not passionately in love, don't be so overdramatic."

"Okay, but what about the other questions?"

I bit my lip and try to avoid the intensity of his look, but he keeps staring at me so hard. "Well…we decided together that it'd be worth it to…to maybe explore what we're going through. But…"

"But?" he's practically leaning toward me the way he's absorbing all this.

"But you know how close I am with Bebe."

Craig leans back and gives me a confused look, "so?"

"So? So?! Dude, I can't…not with Bebe's fiancée!"

"_Ex-_fiancée," he emphasizes. "And Kyle so what?!"

"What do you mean _so what_?!" What he said makes me angry. "What would you do if you wanted to go out with Token's ex-girlfriend huh? You think you could ruin your friendship with your best friend for something that might not even last a few months?"

"Hm," he takes on a thoughtful look. "That's a good point, but do you really like Stan, if you don't love him?"

I rub my forehead with the palms of my hand before falling back into my own seat and looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah," I say. "Yeah I _really _like him."

"How much?"

How much? I'm not even sure how much. I just know that all our past animosity is long gone. I know that he makes me laugh, makes me feel comfortable, and that of course he's a brilliant cook. And I could talk about anything with him, from serious topics to the most irrelevant. Everyone who has ever met him, save my old childhood Californian friends, has always liked him. My parents love him, and Ike did too. We were childhood friends, he used to be my best friend, and while that doesn't count for too much now that we're older, it counts for something.

I mean, we're living together. Discovering each other's habits, and occasionally we get annoyed with each other's habits but it's not a big deal because it's him. I even find his lack of style cute and endearing, and I love the way he can give me a lopsided smile and shake his head at me when I've made a flub in the kitchen.

And when he touches me…that entire body part warms up, and I get this tingly sensation in the bottom of my stomach. It feels incredible and I hardly want it to end. When we had our first intense kiss I was slightly thankful that we were already on the floor because there would have been no way I could have held myself up. I know it sounds stupid, but for the first time ever I actually felt that whole 'weak in the knees' expression. It wasn't just lips touching lips, it was so much more than that. I didn't get the fireworks, or the explosions, but it felt right. It felt wonderful, and perfect, and I've never felt that way before. It was as if my system was a huge mess of butterflies and hurricanes. Soft, gentle, and fluttery, but my emotions were raging.

And that was just the kiss.

He's so compassionate, and caring, and his love for Kenny amazes me. I want to be as close to him as Kenny was, even more so. I don't think, I don't hope to ever replace Kenny. But I would love to know that if something were to ever happen to me that Stan would grieve just as hard. I just…I just…it's indescribable.

"I'll take your glassed over eyes as your answer," I hear Craig say and I pop out of my thoughts to look at him sheepishly. "If you like the guy that much, you might as well go for it."

The sinking feeling returns to my stomach, "but Bebe…"

"She'll get over it."

Craig and I look up at the sound of Token's dry voice. He's standing in the entrance to the room holding onto what must be the PS 56.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask meekly.

"Long enough to see you drift off in your little trance."

"But what if Bebe…" I start again and he cuts me off. Even my own argument is starting to sound dull to my own ears. But I won't go back on asking Bebe's permission, no matter what these guys say. No matter what Stan says, or believes…or even what I personally believe.

"She will get over it Kyle," he says and bends down to set the console on the coffee table, before taking a spot next to Craig. "If Craig did that to me," he glances over at said friend who's studying him carefully. "I'd be pissed, I'd hate him probably…but we're best friends." He looks back over me. "And if he truly and honestly loved-"

"Strong like," I interrupt, feeling my cheeks redden again.

He waves it off and continues, "if he honestly liked her, him, whatever I'd eventually support it. It'd take awhile, but I think I could be fine with it in due time."

"You would?" I ask to reaffirm.

"Eventually, yeah. You have to support the people you care about, even if it hurts you in the end. If Bebe's really your friend she'll want you to be happy right?"

I nod slowly digesting what Token said, "I still want to ask her permission."

"You want to ask her permission?!" Craig almost yells, but Token gives him a look.

"Not something the average person would do," he mutters. "But it's admirable…in a self torturing kind of way. You're a good man Kyle Broflovski," he says smiling. "Now are we going to play a few games or what?" He asks turning his attention back to the console and away from me, which I greatly appreciate. I need the distraction, but as Token hooks things up I see Craig giving me a blank look. But I don't ask him about it, instead I pick up a controller and marvel over the new features of a system yet to be released.

-

"My God, I can't possibly wait two months for this thing to be released," I say as I dodge a hit from Craig. "Token you have to let me borrow this."

"And get sued? No thanks, my dad would kill me. In fact this has to stay between us four," he says and physically jumps back as if the attack is actually coming at him, rather than his character.

"Four?" Craig wonders as his tongue hangs out and as he bends with his controller.

"Stan's played this too," Token mentions and Craig nods his head in acknowledgement. "Fuck, Kyle move out of the fucking way!" Token protests talking more to the game than me.

"If I move, you win and hell if I'm going to let _that _happen!" I bite back. Just as I make a sharp move I hear the sound of my cell phone going off. "Damn," I swear. "Craig can you get my phone? It's on the couch."

"Me? It's your phone!"

"Yeah, but I'm winning right now and you're losing!"

"We'll just pause the game," Token says and before I can protest, the game freezes and I glare at him. I had _just _been about to win! "You black asshole," I growl and he only grins at me before hopping over the coffee table to pick up my phone.

"Hello?" he says into it. He pauses as he listens to the other end. "Ah, Stan…yeah Kyle's at my house, so is Craig. Sure, sure," he says before holding it out to me.

"Stan?" I say into the phone once I've secured it in my hands.

"Hey," he says lightly. "I passed by Cherry Kiss and saw that it was closed."

"Yeah, Chef has some family things to take care of today."

"Oh yeah, the voodoo ritual thing?"

I glance at the phone surprised, "yeah…that's what Craig said."

"Happens every year, don't ask. Anyway, what time are you coming home tonight?"

I'm officially tired of blushing today, but what he said sounds so natural and familiar. Like I'm really going home to my-, I stop my train of thought. "Ergh, whenever I guess. I still have to go back to Bebe's…in fact I still have to tell Bebe I'm leaving tonight, but that should be okay. So…maybe around six pm?"

"Six? How about seven instead?"

"Er, okay, but why does it matter?"

"I want to make you a welcome back meal, something you haven't had before."

I want to melt.

"You, you don't have to do that," I stutter out and turn away from Token and Craig's inquisitive faces.

"I want to," I can practically hear him smile into the phone. "I'll make lots too, and lots to choose from."

"But I wasn't gone for that long," I mutter.

"Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"Let me do this for you."

"'Kay," I say back quietly.

"Good, I'll see you at seven pm tonight."

"Right," I say and he disconnects our phone call.

"What did he have to say, you look kind of pale?" Token questions.

"…do you guys maybe want to come over tonight for dinner?" I ask slowly.

**Stan**

"Mr. Zanadaci, we're out of pickled garlic!" I yell to the side as I continue to slice sheets of egg.

The restaurant is currently a zoo. We have a large order of our most difficult dishes and two people called in sick. Sick my ass. Mr. Zanadaci just grated on their last nerve. Kinda like he is now with me.

"Then make some appear!" he barks back.

This is he first time in quite a few weeks where his presence was actually needed in the kitchen. I've been doing a fairly good job at keeping things running smoothly, or at least I must be as he hasn't said anything to me otherwise.

I stop my slicing and growl down into the counter. Make pickled garlic _appear_?! Something that specific doesn't just appear!

"Mr-" he cuts me off by throwing me a glare and jutting his head toward the office. That's my cue to get some money, get in my car and go for a treasure hunt. Which at this point I'm more than willing to do before he remembers that he needs my skills and has someone else do it. Anything to get a fucking breather!

I do as I'm told, grab the amount, and leave all while ignoring the envious gazes of my co-workers.

As I hop in my car, chef jacket still on I wonder exactly where I'm going to get pickled garlic. It's not the easiest thing to come by, it's not like pickles. It's a specialty item and Mr. Z always gets them shipped in from some organic market in Denver. But never mind that, I have to find some and some fast. I probably have about an hour before they'll be needed, but as I check out our two local grocery stores and even a mom and pop one that's a block away I start to feel slightly anxious.

This town, does NOT have pickled garlic. Shit.

But seeing as how freaking out changes nothing I try to think. So I can't get pickled garlic, no if ands or buts about that. I'll need an alternative. Either way my boss will be pissed, but once the hype in the restaurant dies down he'll come to his senses and realize that there was nothing I could do about the lack of pickled garlic in our area.

In the meantime I need him to be appreciative _later_ about what I could come up with. Now then…I look around at downtown South Park. What's similar to pickled garlic?

Ugh, I hang my head. Nothing. That's the answer. There is nothing similar. I'm just going to be screwed that's all. This isn't turning out to be one of those good days.

"Stan?"

I almost bite my tongue. This is most definitely not turning out to be one of those good days. I turn around and try not to sigh in exasperation. It's not like it's Bebe's fault that my day is already bad and that the last thing I want to see is her.

"Hi Bebe," I respond and realize that I sound somewhat awkward.

I watch her shift her footing, "what are you doing around here?"

"Work stuff," I say and cringe at the thought. "I'm trying to find pickled garlic, I don't suppose you know where I can find some?"

She shakes her head, "can't you just make some?"

"Not unless you can give me three months," I say somewhat bitterly.

"Oh."

Bebe and I stand across from each other in silence for awhile not looking at each other, but luckily for me I do have an excuse as for why I'll have to cut this uncomfortable meeting short. But before I can say something she beats me to it.

"So how've you been?"

"Huh? Oh…good, I mean…" I sigh. Is she testing me? "I'm fine Bebe, how about you?"

"Alright…" she suddenly narrows her eyes as she looks at me, but it's not out of suspicion. It looks like she's trying to examine something on my face carefully, but her eyes are locked on mine so I can't imagine what she's looking for.

"You look different."

"I do?" I ask confused as I run a hand through my hair, and subconsciously pull on a loose thread from my chef jacket. "I haven't cut my hair or anything…I should look exactly the same from when you saw me last."

"It's not that…it looks kinda like…" she trails off and I see this dawning break onto her face, and it's not a happy dawning. Her shoulders slowly begin to slump and I see…something in her eyes, in her heart, break all over again. You would think I was dumping her again, right this moment the way she's acting.

"Bebe?" I say carefully, wondering if she's okay.

"Oh, sorry," she suddenly says and starts to turn away. "I should let you get back to work…" she casts a glance at the sidewalk. "Bye Stan," she says in such a final voice that I have half a mind to grab her and demand her to explain what suddenly happened in five seconds to make her act like this.

But as much as I would like to stay Bebe's friend in the long run, I don't think it's something she wants. And it might be better to let her go until she's ready to come back to me.

"Uh, see you later Bebe," I say finally. I watch her walk off for awhile, which is probably something I shouldn't do, but just when it seems like she's about to disappear from my sight she turns back around.

"Let's not get married Stan," she calls out and I pale. She's attracted a good portion of downtown, all of whom have more or less known us both since birth. "Not if you don't love me anymore…"

Not knowing what to do, I only nod my head and like that she vanishes and I'm left standing like the guy left at the alter…even if it was my decision to begin with. It's weird, because it _was _my decision to end us. But having watched her retreating back was sort of like watching a part of myself walk away. It's completely bittersweet, and I really will miss the times I shared with Bebe being the happy, loving couple. Part of me even misses the kids we didn't get to have. But at the same time…

I turn and head back to my car.

If I hadn't lost Bebe, I never would have gained Kyle. And to me, he's worth more. It's as simple as that.

When I roll back into the restaurant, completely empty handed, not having been able to think of anything Mr. Zanadaci looks at me silently for a moment. Instead of lecturing me as I thought he would he only grunts and points to four dishes that that need a look over before they're ready to go onto the floor.

"I never liked pickled garlic anyway," I think I hear him mutter, but it could really be my imagination.

As I look over the four completed dishes, one being rack of lamb, another seared tuna, one a pasta dish, and the last an appetizer I decide that I want to make something incredible for Kyle tonight when he comes back. Obviously he's had some pretty good things from me before, I always go above and beyond what's necessary for dinner. But this is going to be our first dinner together since he's been at Bebe's. And okay, he hasn't been gone long, but this is something I suddenly really want to do.

Remembering Bebe's saddened look I want to end the day with looking at a happy one, and nothing makes Kyle happier, or makes him drool more than something I've made. And I really want to see that, him happy that is. Smiling at the thought I pick at a few things on the plates before giving my nod of approval to a hovering waiter to take away.

I feel slightly nervous at the thought of Kyle and I having dinner together alone since he left. The words romantic dinner date float in my head, but I'm quick to push them aside. It doesn't have to be romantic; it's just about me spending time with Kyle. That's all.

-

At the harsh knock I jump and almost drop the ladle I had been using to stir. Wiping my hands on my pants and I look around at everything in the kitchen to be sure nothing will need my direct attention for the next few minutes as I help Kyle bring in his bags. I assume that's why he didn't let himself in.

I've been working on dinner since I got off of work. Of course I had to get Mr. Zanadaci's permission to leave early, but luckily he seemed too exhausted to question my request and merely waved me off.

Kyle knocks again, this time a bit more impatiently and I hurry a bit more to the door.

"Why didn't you just set your bags dow – what the hell are you guys doing here?" I ask crossly staring at Craig and Token.

"That's not a nice way to greet your friends," Token says as he bypasses me into the apartment. Craig gives me a cheeky grin and follows him. Closing the door slowly behind them I try my best to leave my lip uncurled.

"Fine then," I start tersely. "Hey guys, hope you're doing well, so then why are you in my apartment?"

"We're here for Kyle's homecoming," Craig states as he sits himself down on my couch.

"You're what?" I ask deadpanned.

"He means we're here for the food. Rumor has it you've cooked up a storm this evening and we'd like to be part of it."

"I…don't _recall_ inviting you two," I point out. "And who did you hear those rumors from?"

"From me."

The three of us turn our heads to see Kyle dragging in his bag through the front door.

"Did you knock?" I question as I rush to help him. "And…for someone who was gone only a couple days your bag sure is heavy."

"I'm not really good at the whole packing light thing," he says sheepishly and swats my hand away. "I can carry it fine by myself. If you want to be of help, get that food on the table I'm starving and it all smells incredible. As usual." He says grinning and I frown at him.

"You could have told me you invited them."

"By them, I think he means us," I hear Token say and I choose to ignore him.

"You said you were making more than enough food on the phone…besides we haven't all hung out since…umm…" he struggles to remember.

"The infamous Nuggets game," Craig supplies. "It's been that long since the four of us have been in the same area together."

"Exactly. I thought it'd be fun," Kyle finishes.

Kyle's bangs are blocking his eyes from me as he fumbles around with something on his bag.

"Is that really the reason?" I mutter to him, trying to be sure that Token and Craig don't hear. Though I know their ears must be glued to our conversation since I don't hear them talking.

"One of them, yeah," he responds and brushes his curls from his eyes. He smiles at me. "I'm looking forward to the welcome back meal."

I raise a questionable eyebrow at him, "hmm, I'll get back to it then," I turn to our uninvited yet invited guests. "I guess you guys can stay."

"So charitable as always Staney."

"Do you want to stay or do you want me to throw your ass out?" I bark at Craig.

Both Token and Kyle laugh and I'm startled at the feel of Kyle patting me gently on the back, even going as far as to rub my back in small quick affectionate circles. I glance at him and he seems to have realized what he's been doing and instantly pulls his hand away, blushing furiously.

"Shit," he mutters. "I'm going to go…take my stuff to my room. Craig, help me," he orders rather than asks.

Craig jumps up, obviously surprised from Kyle's tone of voice and does as he says by grabbing his bag and allowing Kyle to lead him to his room.

"I thought he just said he didn't need help," I murmur to myself as I watch the two of them enter Kyle's room. The door shuts behind them and I have half a mind to open it back up.

"Is it odd that they're getting closer?" Token's voice asks and it stops me from barging toward Kyle's room. "I think it is, but then again they do work together. I think those two see more of each other than they do us."

"Probably," I say still eyeing the door.

"Let's go in the kitchen," he says and pushes me slightly in its direction. "Nice," he says appreciatively as he looks around and as I head back to check on the pot I had been stirring earlier.

"What is?"

"The kitchen, the apartment…that window."

"Haven't you been here before?"

"Um…no," he says bluntly. "You two have been pretty good at keeping this little diamond between the two of you."

"Sorry," I say not in the least bit sorry. "Do you want to help me with the finishing touches on the food?" I ask as I open the fridge to look for a certain seasoning.

"Why not, just tell me what to do."

"I don't suppose you know the fine art of chopping vegetables?" I ask as I toss him a bag of carrots.

"It's not rocket science," he answers. "Cutting board?" He asks and I point him in the direction of one. He starts cutting and I eye him ready to reprimand him for his lack of skill, but he surprises me.

"You know what you're doing," I say shocked.

"It's _just_cutting carrots. Just because my family has money doesn't mean I don't know how to cook you know."

"Hm," I say thoughtfully as I snag a carrot and toss it in my mouth. "Kyle can't boil water, literally. It boiled over and got on everything, and he set a fire in the microwave. For some reason he's completely jinxed in the kitchen."

Token turns his head slightly to glance at me before going back to his carrots, "that so?"

"Yeah, it's seriously cute how helpless he is," I pause in chewing, and Token pauses in cutting.

He suddenly snorts and I realize he's holding back laughter. "Now I see why we were invited."

"What?!"

"Poor Kyle probably didn't want to be jumped by you. He's probably too afraid of being alone with you on his first night back."

"Dude…not funny."

"I think it is. Oh! To completely change the subject, before I forget," he says, his laughter dying immediately. "I don't know why Kyle's decision to not be alone with you reminded me about this but, I've been meaning to call you about it. Anyway, I saw Cartman the other day."

"And?" I question nonchalantly and add a few more seasonings to the pot.

"He's going around asking questions. Turns out he's been doing that ever since Kenny died."

"…questions about_what_?" I wonder and turn to stare point blank at Token. "Last I heard he was finally doing what's better for him, keeping his fat nose out of other people's business."

"That's when you_last_ heard; he's not being so sly anymore."

I tap a few fingers on the counter, "stop beating around the bush Token, what's he asking about?"

"Kenny."

"Alright what's that supposed to mean, what _about_ Kenny?"

"Kyle and I are finished with our heart-to-heart, how about you two?" Craig asks, and both Token and I turn to see Kyle and Craig approaching us. Craig's grinning, and Kyle's looking at him in annoyance.

"Yeah we're done," Token says as he quickly finishes cutting the carrots in clean even strokes.

"We are not done," I growl out softly glaring at him.

"I don't have anything more to say," he says calmly. "That's all I know."

"All you know about what?" Both Craig and Kyle question together looking back and forth at the two of us.

"Never mind," Token says and leans over me to grab a hold of a salad bowl I had previously started filling with vegetables. "Let's eat," he adds as he drops the carrots he had been dealing with into the bowl.

Hanging back I watch as Token sets the bowl on the small yet efficient dining table Kyle and I got over three months ago. He orders to both Craig and Kyle to get the food that I've finished, including the pot that's now just simmering to keep the heat, and a dish that's just now finished from the oven. Token even brushes by me to get some cut up bread and makes sure Craig grabs some drinks from the fridge.

"Ugh, don't you ever drink anything other than root beer?" Craig asks as he bends down to study the interior of the fridge.

"There's tap water if you want," I hear Kyle say and Craig reluctantly agrees to having a pop.

I eye the guys as they plant themselves down at the table. It's square, so there's no head or end of table. Kyle's sitting in his usual seat divvying out the silverware, and by divvying I mean tossing it towards the plates and narrowly avoiding the other guys. Craig's looking back and forth between the bread and the salad. Not doubt trying to decide which can get in his stomach faster, and Token is spreading out a napkin on his lap looking like the over privileged kid he's always been.

When it seems everyone's settled down three pairs of eyes turn to look at me expectantly.

"Well?" Token questions.

"Are you going to just stand there?" Craig asks.

I guess there's no point dwelling on what Token was going to tell me. If there really was anything more, he would have told me, not brushed it aside. It's been months now since Kenny's accident and the fact that Cartman's just now raising his head from the sand doesn't surprise me…but it shouldn't bother me either. There's nothing he can do if he's learned about his will, which no doubt he has. He can't break it, so if that's what he's asking about he's shit out of luck. The best thing to do right now is forget all about him and have, what's no doubt, one of my best dinners, with my friends.

**Kyle**

"I thought you were going to give Bebe a week before you talked to her about us," he rubs the back of his neck and I play with my flip phone.

"I know. I was, but…" I trail off. I can't say I changed my mind because being back with Stan's got my hormones all over the place. That it's getting too hard to calm myself down and remember why we're not moving along faster. That idealistically the faster I ask Bebe for her permission the faster I can just give in to temptation. "I want to get it over with," I end up saying.

I've only been back in our apartment for two days, but two days has been more than enough for me to be frustrated with the mounting physical frustrations. Being alone with Stan is as bad as I had thought it would be the day he called me about making a huge dinner for me.

I had instantly asked Token and Craig along, hoping it'd quell whatever it was that I might have done had they not been there. And it did work, and Stan was annoyed but accepting, but they couldn't live here with us until I asked Bebe's permission.

I should know, I asked Craig.

I had forced him to help me carrying my things into my room and had quickly demanded he spend the night for a few nights. He laughed, of course, and said a blunt no. We argued about it for awhile before Craig told me that if I didn't let that idea go that he would tell Stan we were even having that conversation. I had grudgingly agreed.

And it hadn't been _so_bad. But it hasn't been good either. Every time we were in a room together we looked at each other and I know he was finding it as hard as I was to simply not touch the other. The staring, the needing to touch, the pheromones…I'm surprised I lasted two days. I could have given in, I wanted to, but every time I even thought about it Bebe's face would pop into my head. I planned on giving Bebe more time, more time to heal and get over Stan's rejection but…I can't fucking stand it anymore.

"…wait a few more days," he says suddenly.

I look at him surprised. He's not meeting my eye and he's looking off into the distance to avoid my eye.

"Why? You're the one who…I figured you'd prefer if I got it over with."

"I'd prefer if we didn't ask for her permission at all. But I know it's important to you," he rushes out when I scowl slightly. "And it's just…I saw her a couple days back so she might be a little sensitive right now. More so than usual."

"But she'll always be sensitive when it comes to you. Maybe not forever, but probably for a long time. Besides, for some reason I have the courage to tell her right now and seeing as how I don't know when or if I'll get it back I should tell her now."

"…if that's what you want to do."

I nod, "it is." Without another word to each other I dial Bebe's number and Stan watches as I do so. She picks up a little late, probably just before it was about to go to her voicemail.

"I'm so glad you called," she says right off the bat, and I can tell from that short sentence that she's been crying again.

"Bebe, what's wrong?" I ask worriedly.

"It's Stan, I…" she sniffs. "Can you come over right now or are you busy?"

I shake my head slowly, realizing she can't see that. "No, I'm not. In fact I…" I glance at Stan but he's turning away and walking himself over to the couch. "I wanted to get together with you anyway. I have something to tell you."

"Okay," she sucks in a dry sob and it makes me wince. "Let's meet at Stark's Pond. I don't want to be in my apartment."

"Starks…Pond?" That's kind of…public. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, please Kyle?"

"That's fine with me Bebe, I just…wouldn't you rather talk somewhere private if you're upset?"

"Yeah, but I can't think of any other place that isn't filled with memories of me and Stan. He and I hardly went to the pond together so it seems like a good spot. Can you leave now and meet me there?"

"Sure, I'm practically out the door," I say before she sniffs again and thanks me after saying goodbye to me.

I don't move a muscle as I look over to where Stan is. "What did…what did you guys talk about when you met earlier? She seems really upset, she's crying and…what did you two talk about?"

He doesn't say anything for a second and I have half a mind to strangle him for it, but I suddenly realize that I don't want to know. If I know I wont tell Bebe about my situation with Stan and while it's not ideal for me to add to her pain…I can't hold it in anymore now that I've already resolved to tell her today.

"You know what, never mind," I tell him. "I don't want to know, she'll tell me anyway." I take in a deep breathe and try to pretend that I'm not shaking from nervousnes. "Guess I'll get going then."

"Kyle?" He suddenly says and I meet his eyes expectantly. He looks worried, and tired, and anxious, and everything I am. Which is no wonder. Our outcome will all depend on what's going to happen within the next hour. When I come back to face him I'll have Bebe's answer, I'll know what I'll have to do…whether or not I like it.

"I um," he starts before sighing. "I don't know what to say," he says and I swallow a lump in my throat.

"Then I'll see you in a bit," I say and he nods more to himself than me. His dejected blue eyes are the last thing I see before I turn away to leave our apartment and head for Starks Pond.

-

I arrive first and plant myself far off to the side that's a bit more secluded. An area that's away from the children and their play. Bebe arrives, it seems, only a moment later. It would appear that as if seeing me is some sort of trigger for her because at once when we lock eyes hers start to well up and tears fall down her cheeks.

I scoot over to allow her room next to me and without a word she sits herself down so that our shoulders are touching.

"Bebe?" I question softly, curiously.

She seems to be searching for the correct words because more than once her mouth opens before she promptly shuts it. And just when I hear the first syllable of a word form in her mouth, more tears fall from her eyes.

"There's someone else," she finally says. I say nothing in return. "That's probably why he…I never thought he'd…another woman," she breaths out clearly still trying to understand her own words.

"…Is that what he said?"

"No, he never said anything of the sort but…Stan and I ran into each other yesterday. It was…awkward, but I was trying. I asked how he was, and he said he was fine and then I noticed right away because…I know him, so I noticed right away that there was something very different about him. I said so too, and he just looked confused and said everything was pretty much the same with him, so he couldn't have changed and I said…I said, no, there is something different about you. Kyle, he looks…he looks amazing. He was glowing from the inside, something is making him really happy…and it's not me, and I know that look. I know he found someone else…already, its so soon. But the look on his face made me realize that he probably doesn't know how he looks either."

I am so glad Bebe's too focused on what she saw in Stan to pay any attention to me this moment because I can feel my heart hammering against my chest, and I can feel the redness overwhelm my face.

"He never looked the way he does now when he was with me. Never." She presses her back into the bench and I'm relieved that she isn't looking to me for physical comfort. I couldn't hug her right now, I'd feel like too much of a bastard if I tried to comfort her.

I expect her to go on, but she doesn't. She remains silent, looking down, occasionally looking up and across the pond. I watch her tuck a few blonde wavy strands behind her ear. She still looks tired, dejected and sad. She looks sad the most. I look down and twiddle my thumbs, wondering how long we can sit in silence before she asks me what it is _I_ called her for.

"I'm sorry Kyle, you said you had something you wanted to tell me too, what was it?" She asks me finally. I look up and meet her sunken eyes. Even with what she's going through there's still concern in them, concern for me. It only makes me feel worse. I almost want to drop it, and forget about why I asked her out. But when Stan's face flashes in my head, when I see that apprehensive look in his eyes as he watched me leave, I know I need to. Not just for him…but for me too. The way he looked, it was as if he expected me to back out, to choose friendship with Bebe over a relationship with him.

It's rather ironic, because isn't this what he did with choosing Kenny over Bebe? Someone somewhere, is having a laugh at our expense.

"Bebe," I start, stop, and drop my head into my hands.

I can't do it. I can't do this to her, she's been hurt enough.

"Hey what's wrong?" She asks me quietly and I feel as she starts to rub my back gently.

"I like Stan," I blurt out in my hands. Her rubbing of my back doesn't stop.

"I know you do. I know you guys are friends and I don't want you to choose sides," she tells me gently.

"No Bebe," I look up and her hand drops back down to her side as we make eye contact. "I _like_ Stan," I repeat stressing the word so she understands.

She leans back away from me, her eyes furrowing in confusion as she studies me. "And Stan likes me back," I add and grab a hold of both her hands, so she'll stop leaning so far away from me. "I don't want to hurt you Bebe, and I'm so sorry."

"You're the other woman?" She asks wondrously.

"No Bebe, no," I quickly shake my head, even though in a sense I _am _the other woman.

"…Stan dumped me…for you?"

"Bebe, I said no! When Stan broke up with you it had nothing to do with me at the time. We didn't even realize…what we felt…until later. I promise," I rush out.

She pulls her hands slowly from mine and looks away from me. "Okay, jokes over Kyle. It's not funny."

A shot of pain hits somewhere inside me, "it's not a joke Bebe. I really, he and I…."

"I said jokes OVER Kyle!"

"It isn't a joke!"

"How can it not be?!" She turns back to look at me, her eyes blazing. "When could you two…how…you're both…and you're childhood friends and roommates! You're here because of something that shit faced Kenny set up, you're not…you guys don't…"

"Bebe…" I reach out a hand to touch her shoulder, but she tenses and I pause in my action and drop my hand back to my side. "There's a lot that…that just happened and we're not even sure how."

"Stop saying _we're_! You and Stan are not a _we're_, stop speaking for him!"

I clamp my mouth shut and don't say anything. We sit in silence again for awhile, and while I do want to speak I don't dare. I want her to make the next move, luckily she doesn't fail me.

"How long has this…thing supposedly been going on?" her voice sounds mildly bitter, but I ignore it to answer her question.

"We'r- I mean, I'm not entirely sure," I say softly. "There were times when…" I stop when I realize there's no reason to tell her the specifics about anything right now. She just needs to know the raw facts. "I think I've felt something for…at least a month that I can consciously remember."

"…a month?" she says just below a whisper. "Then all that time we spent together…when I was crying to you about Stan, and even asking you to help me get him back…you were happy Stan and I weren't working out? Did you two huddle together and laugh over how I was being played?"

"You're being ridiculous…" I mutter and want to slap myself the second I say that. Good thing Bebe does it for me. It's sharp, hurts, and I didn't see it coming. She's breathing hard, and looking far more angry than sad. Sadness isn't even displayed on her face, just anger and betrayal. The one thing I had been specifically trying to avoid.

"Don't tell me," she starts out. "That I'm being ridiculous when I've just now learned the person who I thought was my friend was fucking around with my fiancée!"

I don't bother to correct her on the fiancée part. "We haven't been "fucking around" behind your back," I do tell her. There might have been a few kisses, but nothing went past that as much as I wanted it to, I made sure it never did. "But I…" her eyes harden at the word 'but'. "I do…really like him Bebe. A lot, but you are my friend and as such…I'm only going to do this with Stan if you're okay with it," I tell her quietly. "Only if you say I can, only if I can have your permission."

"Then no," she answers passively, staring hard at me. "I'm not okay with it, so you can't."

I feel a catch in my throat, and my hands go dry.

"Do you still really want to have my permission after hearing my answer?" Bebe asks, and I nod slowly.

"Yes, and I understand…" I whisper out, looking back down at my hands. "And I won't."

I hear her stand, but I don't bother to look up. I can feel her looking at me but she doesn't say anything and I hear her footsteps walk away from me without Bebe saying a word to me. Which is fine since I can't think of anything else to say anyway.

When I return home I find myself standing outside of the door. I'm trying to think of what to tell Stan when I see him. Taking a deep breath and deciding to wing it I open the door and walk in. Stan was probably sitting watching television, but as I walk in he jumps from the couch and flicks off the screen.

I close the door slowly behind me and look at his anxious face. He takes a hesitant step toward me and I hold out my hand to stop him, before he hugs me, or kisses me. I can't tell what he was planning.

"She said no," I tell him softly, idly fingering the part of my cheek where Bebe's slap hurt the most.

"Which means what for you and me?" He asks, but from the look on his face I feel like he already knows. But of course he knows, so I wonder why he asked it.

"That means no for us too."

"Kyle-"

"She's my best friend Stan. I finally after eleven years can call someone that..." I smirk tiredly. "Hypothetically Stan, if you had to pick Kenny or me, and you couldn't have us both, who would you pick?" I'm about to bypass Stan and head for my room when he grabs my elbow, forcing me to look back at him.

"You of course! Kenny would understand and if he didn't…I'd make him."

I give him a pained expression before pulling my elbow from him and retreating to my room. A few moments later as I begin to tell myself that I had to know this was coming, I hear the sound of him leaving through the front door.

And then once he's left I fall face first into my bed and start to tell myself that I'm stupid for wanting permission from someone who will never give it.

**-FG**

**AN: **I finally got around to doing what I was probably going to do anyway, XD. I _am_ going to write the side story to this one on who killed Kenny. I was hounded by enough of you to convince me to write it, which made me laugh. It's called _A Foreseeable Death, _and it's already posted for those who are curious about Ken's passing. My lips are sealed tight on who killed Kenny and why, and they intend to stay that way. :)


	38. Bebe, Stan, and Kyle

**AN: **I'm quickly becoming the author I hate. The one that takes forever to update, then starts a million other stories only to leave them hanging. BAH. I guess I'm restless, but I'm not sure why…

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Bebe, Stan, and Kyle**

**Bebe**

I'm completely out of the area of Stark's Pond and have entered the adjacent part of town when I finally stop walking. I didn't realize the intensity of my walk until I've stopped. I have to take in deep gulps of air, but that could be in part to what I've just been told. I'm still angry, furious beyond words. I mean, I want to scoff and I do.

Did he really think I'd give him my permission?

How could Kyle…I _trusted _him. I thought he was the friend that I could finally turn to, one of those friends for life you hear about. We have so much in common, we get along so well…why did he of all people have to be the one Stan would glow for? I'd have rather it had been anyone else. Any of my other girlfriends; Red, Heidi, Ester, even Wendy. If he had gone back to Wendy I would have laughed, part of me wouldn't even have been surprised if it HAD been Wendy.

But why Kyle? Why him? The only reason I imagined that I would eventually get over Stan was the belief that I had Kyle by my side. That yes, he wouldn't pick sides, but that I'd still get his support as I got past this whole thing.

"You okay honey?" I hear a sugary sweet, but light voice ask.

"Oh, I'm fi-," I start as I turn to face the owner of that voice. I stop mid sentence as I'm face to face with Mercedes and her considerate caring face, which quickly drops at realizing who I am and we both end up frowning at each other.

"Oh it's you," we both say at the same time, and we even wince at the same time for having spoken in unison.

I've never gotten along with the Raisins girls, Mercedes especially. I used to think it was a shame back in high school since it seemed that Mercedes was a lot smarter than she let on. I've never understood why she was so close with Lexus, and especially Porscha who's the very definition of bimbo. I always thought she could do better, that she belonged more with girls like me and Wendy if she had been around.

It's probably why I hate her the most. Because she's smart enough to know she's friends with idiots and yet she stays with them. It's never made any sense to me. Then of course there's that link she has with Kenny. I don't even know if Stan knows that they were close. At least I think they were close. I used to catch them sneaking around and whispering to each other in the hallways when they thought no one was looking.

Those blondes had the same understanding in their eyes as they talked, the same sort of…twinkle that told me they were up to something. That they knew more than they let on, but that they thought they were too damn special to share it with the rest of us. I've never confronted Mercedes or Kenny about how often I'd catch them together, seeing as how I wasn't fond of either. Still, it always made me wonder…

"Why the air of depression?"

I snap out of my reverie and take in Mercedes in surprise. She's still here? I would have figured that by now she would have walked off. She's never engaged in conversation with me before unless it was throwing biting remarks at me. Not just that, but her voice has dropped a few octaves…I knew that high pitched thing was just for show. And she's by herself, which is weird in itself.

"Where are your side kicks?" I ask back.

She raises a finely trimmed eyebrow, which was probably recently waxed and scoffs. "If by side kicks you mean Lexus and Porscha, they're at Porscha's house where I'm headed now."

I snort, which she seems to ignore.

"Now you can answer my question," she goes on to say.

"Which was?"

It looks like she's holding back a sneer. Odd, normally she would have just done so. "Why you're looking like an unattractive mess. I know caring about your looks isn't your top priority, but your face is swelled, your red, your hair is everywhere, and honestly Bebe didn't you wear that sweater _yesterday_?"

I narrow my eyes, "why is that of any concern to you?"

She doesn't say anything for a moment before she suddenly flicks her blond locks behind her neck, "fine. I was only trying to be polite."

"That wasn't a very good attempt! And besides," I pause. "You've never tried before, and you can't say it's because you saw me…looking a bit saddened, as I know you don't care."

"I didn't realize it was you. And even after I found out, the only reason I didn't simply leave you to wallow in your own apparent misery is because I promised my favorite cutie that I'd try to be nicer toward you. Now I can tell him I tried, and that it was pointless as I knew it would be." She starts to walk away and rather than letting her go, as I should I can't help but call out.

"And who exactly is this favorite cutie of yours?"

"Kyle obviously."

Kyle…

"Kyle Broflovski is a lying asshole," I mutter as I fight to keep myself from crying. In my brief conversation with Mercedes I had been able to momentarily forget about him. But now at the mention of his name I feel all the emotions that had been put on hold flood back. The anger, the sadness, the betrayal…

"You take that back," Mercedes says sharply, and I look up to see that she's approached me again.

"I wont."

"Red is nothing but a sweet, kind, loving, and wonderfully attractive individual!"

I scoff, "that's what I used to think, until he asked me if he could hook up with the man I thought I'd have a future with." Why and how I was able to spill that out to her of all people I have no idea. But the fury in her eyes vanishes and I see an almost…understanding flash in them. In any case her shackles go back down and I watch as she glances at her watch. I want to gasp when I see it; it's the new Chanel Green watch, but I hold it in, not wanting her to think I'm impressed by it.

"I've got time," I hear her say to herself.

"Time for what?" I ask confused and look back up at her now blank face.

"Want to grab a latte?"

-

Ten minutes later she and I are seated in one of the small little cafes in downtown South Park nursing drinks, which she paid for.

"What do you know, and how do you know it?" I ask dumbly as Mercedes stirs the contents in her latte with a short wooden stirring stick.

"I know you and your cute little fiancée are ex-fiancée's now, as for how that doesn't matter. And lets just say I'm not surprised that Kyle and Stan are attempting at becoming an item."

I almost choke on my drink at her words, but she doesn't seem to notice, or care. Her words hurt and make the anger start to build up in knowing that someone even thought for a moment that they were doing exactly what Kyle admitted they wanted to do.

"Though I am surprised that he would ask for your permission to do so," she says this thoughtfully as she taps the top of her lip. "What an interesting and funny thing for him to do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I question.

"Well, it's just I certainly wouldn't have asked my friend if I wanted to go out with her ex-boyfriend. It'd seem pointless, because who in their right mind would say yes? The poor boy really was setting himself up for failure with that one. He should have just gone for it."

"Kyle isn't like you," I sneer at her.

"Apparently he's not like most people. I don't think anyone would have asked," she sighs. "That's practically sainthood, and why I like him so much. Such loyalty to those he cares about…even the likes of you."

I snarl at her last remark before scoffing to myself. If I'm hoping to get comforting words from Mercedes I'm glad she reminded me to look elsewhere.

"Loyalty," I grip my drink. "What does he know about loyalty?"

"Oh get over yourself," she snaps and I look into her annoyed blue eyes. "He asked you, and that should be enough to appease you and to let it go."

"Let it go?! He's dating the man I still love!"

"What would you have him do Bebe?! You think he fell for that hot little blue eyed guy by choice? You think he wanted to fall for his best friends ex? Of course not, and you're pissing me off by acting as if he did. Think how hard it was for Red! Put yourself in his shoes! Torn between his friend and the person he wants far beyond friendship. What would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have done anything! I wouldn't sneak around with my friend's fiancée!"

"Ex-fiancée!" She says forcefully. "And you're full of shit if you think I believe that. We don't choose who we fall for. He could have easily not told you, he could have just honestly snuck around behind your back, and you could have found out the hard way but he chose to confront you about it. You count your blessings! Not everyone has such good friends!"

I fold my arms and demand myself not to cry, "what about my position?" I sniff and avert my eyes to the ceiling to dry my eyes without actually touching them.

"It sucks," she says, her voice finally softening. "And I'm sorry you have to go through it. But what's the point of you all being unhappy? You'll find someone else-"

"No I won't," I snap at her. "And how dare you suggest it."

She frowns at me and I huff as I watch her take a long sip of her drink. "You know, I wasn't going to call you on this, I figured I'd spare you."

"Spare me?" I question confused.

"Mh hm," she lowers her drink back down to the table. "You and Wendy Testaburger were best friends weren't you?"

"You already know that."

"Well didn't Wendy and Stan go out? I even heard they never had an official break up. That they just…lost contact because of the distance."

"…What's your point?"

"My point, Bebe, is that you're being a bit hypocritical in your accusations against Kyle. Are you not, dating your former best friends ex? Didn't you even go so far as to get engaged to the man?"

I scoff, "that's different."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a very good defense."

"Because they were only kids, it was only a childhood love. It was meant to fade."

She makes a small noise of disbelief, "and here I thought you and I might be on the same intelligent wave length."

"Excuse me?!"

"Just because they were kids doesn't mean they didn't love each other. Kids know how to love Bebe, it may not be to the intensity of adults, but they are capable of it. How do you think Wendy felt when she found out about you and Stan?"

"…She probably didn't care; she's never told me she cared."

"But by that time, she'd already been gone a few years and you two had pretty much stopped talking right?"

I shrug my shoulders not wanting to answer. Mercedes is right on that, but I don't want to admit that to her.

"No need to say I'm right, I already know," she says with a proud look on her face. "Wendy might not have been crushed to the point that you're playing at, but she did feel a slight betrayal, no matter how long it had been since you two talked, or wrote a letter."

"And how do you know that? You and Wends weren't exactly close."

"No, but Kenny and I were."

"And how the hell would he know. He and Wendy weren't close either."

"No, but Kenny had a tendency to get in everyone's business. It was his nature, and he told me they had talked, and that Wendy admitted to how she felt about the whole thing."

I stare her down for a minute. "You're lying," I decide.

"For what purpose?"

"To aggravate me."

She lets out a light laugh, no doubt that's fake as well. "Bebe if I wanted to aggravate you I wouldn't use someone else's drama." She looks off to the side for a moment, "and even if I'm wrong, even if Kenny is wrong, and Wendy didn't care…it still doesn't make you less hypocritical. Which makes Red, all the more wonderful, because he did what not even you did." She smirks and like a well timed clock, her cell phone goes off before I have the chance to think of a response.

"Hey Lexus," she says cheerily into her phone. "Yeah, sorry, I ran into someone and we decided to have coffee." There's a pause. "Lex you wouldn't believe me if I told you. In any case I'm on my way now," she says and at saying so she gets up and begins to gather her purse and coat. "Mh hm, I'll see you girls in a bit," she finishes and ends her conversation.

"We're not done," I tell her right off the bat.

"What more is there to say? All you want to do is defend yourself and I can already think of all the possible ways you could do so, and you'd still be in the wrong. Look, you're hurting, so for now you have every right to be upset. But think of the other two people involved and ask yourself if on top if losing Stan, if you want to lose Kyle as well."

The little twinkle of the bell attached to the door of the café goes off and it distracts me for a moment as I think of what she says.

"Bye Bebe," she says and I look up seeing she's already at the door. "Let's…" she pauses. "Let's not do this again, it's too weird and it's far more fun being your high school enemy. The animosity does wonders for my skin," she gives me a short little wave and without another word she leaves me to stare at my latte and to think about what I ought to do next.

I can't envision giving Kyle what he wants. I can't do that. I can't give him my permission, I could never do that. No matter what Mercedes says. But…she has a point about one thing.

I don't know if I want to lose Kyle on top of losing Stan.

**Stan**

It doesn't take long to find her.

That's what I set out to do the second Kyle told me she said no. Really, I shouldn't be surprised, it's what I expected. But what you expect and what the result end up being are two very different things. I didn't realize I was holding onto such hope that Bebe would give Kyle her permission for us to be an us, until he told me she said she wouldn't agree to it.

Right now she's exiting a café, cradling a tall cup while sipping on it occasionally. She's looking the opposite direction as I am, but I don't say anything. It's only a matter of time. She'll see me eventually.

In the meantime I eye her wearily. I did mean to find her, but now that I have I wonder what I'll see when she turns just a little bit more to her right. I don't possibly think that I can convince her to change her mind. Bebe is stubborn, just as much as Kenny always was. And really, I can't fault her for saying no. I would have said no, anyone who really had cared about the person they lost would have said no. What right do I have to tell her she can't?

I take in a sharp breath. She's facing me and she isn't moving. The slight breeze that's wafting past us slides through her blond hair lifting it slightly. Other than that she's frozen solid. I half expect her to sneer at me, but she doesn't. Eventually she remembers the basics in movement and starts to walk toward me. I still don't say a word, I only watch to see what she'll do.

I close my eyes briefly when she walks right past me, pretending she hadn't seen me. Pretending I don't exist.

I still can't, for the life of me, think of what to say so I let her go as I clench my fists to my sides. What will I tell Kyle?

It's kinda like the world around me has silenced itself and the only thing I can hear is the clack clack sound that Bebe's heels make on the sidewalk. So naturally, when that clack clack stops I tense. Turning around slowly our eyes lock on each other's automatically. Bebe's only a few feet away from me so her expression is clear. She's not mad, she doesn't look sad…she doesn't look anything. For once, her expression is too difficult for me to decipher.

Shouldn't I be the one to say something first? I'm the one that sought her out, but I hadn't been able to say anything. And she's the one who stopped walking after brushing past me. That must mean she has something to say to me right?

I wonder how long we would have gone on staring at each other in silence had the outside world not interfered.

"Stan! Bebe!"

Both our heads turn at the same time to eye the owners of the voices. Our mothers.

They wave from the other side of the street, smiling before they look both ways and jaywalk to where Bebe and I are.

"What a horrible son you've been lately!" My mom chides while hugging me tightly. "Honey, I was only just going to call you today! I want you, Bebe, and Kyle at the house tonight for dinner! The Stevens' will be there as well, of course!" She adds as she smiles over at Mrs. Stevens.

"We even went shopping together to get the food, so you can't say no!" Mrs. Stevens adds with a wink.

I glance at Bebe whose eyes are locked on her mother. I thought for sure that by now she would have told her mom about us. Then again, I'll bet she would have assumed the same about me. Turning my attention back to our mother's I open my mouth to give an excuse for why dinner this evening will not be happening, but Bebe beats me to the punch.

"Of course mom!" she says, and she even sounds cheerful saying it, but I know better and there's a weird glint in Mrs. Stevens' eyes. She must know better too, she must know there's something off about the way her daughter responded. But if she does know she doesn't make any other motion to mention it.

"Good!" She says and reaches out to squeeze one of my hands and one of Bebe's. "I've missed you both! And!" she proclaims loudly dropping our hands. "Stan you are not allowed an inch within the kitchen understand?"

I nod my head numbly and our mothers chatter inanely for awhile before they finally part from Bebe and me, telling us to be at my parents at six o'clock sharp. When they're lost in the crowd I turn my attention back to my ex-fiancée. She seems to be waiting for our moms to be a good distance from us before she looks at me.

"Why would you agree to go?" I ask, finally saying something to her.

Her face has long dropped the cheerful disposition she put on for her mother and mine, and it's gone back to being unreadable.

"Because they're our moms," she says simply. "And they have a point. We haven't seen them in awhile and besides…they weren't giving us a choice."

"We could have made an excuse," I say bluntly. "You can't honestly want to go to that dinner."

She's silent for a moment or two before she answers, "maybe I do. See you tonight, oh and…don't forget to bring Kyle." She adds before turning to walk away.

I'm left standing there watching her go, waiting for her to maybe come back to me. We didn't even get to talk about what I really wanted to, and she must know that. She has to know why we conveniently ran into each other just less than an hour since she talked with Kyle.

As I come back to my senses and walk back to my car to drive back to the apartment I try to analyze what just happened. What the hell is Bebe up to saying that maybe she does want to have, what will be, the most awkward dinner imaginable? And then reminding me to bring Kyle? There wasn't a hint of bitterness in her voice, she was acting like she was simply just reminding me. As if I'd forget or something.

Maybe I should call my mom and tell her I'm sick? But no, that won't work since she just saw me. She _knows _I'm not sick. So maybe I can say Kyle is sick?

The ringing of my cell phone distracts me momentarily from my thoughts and I pick it up with my eyes still on the road.

"I'm glad I caught you," Token's voice says into the phone without a single word of greeting.

"Yeah?" I say distractedly.

On the drive here to find Bebe I went over a number of scenario's concerning the confrontation I'd have over what she and Kyle discussed. The one that sounded most believable to me and her personality went something like this:

I would confront her, and I'd be stern about it, but try to be understanding. I would bluntly tell her that I wasn't personally asking for her permission, that to be honest I didn't care whether I got it or not, but that it was important to Kyle to have it, which meant it was important to me. I assumed that she'd maybe be angry more than sad. That she would tell me how I dare ask such a thing of her. Then I figured she'd stalk off and we'd end up nowhere. I never assumed she'd suddenly change her mind, but I wanted to plant the seed in her head that it was worth trying to. If not for my sake, then for the friend she cared so much about.

That was the scene I had envisioned. I hadn't thought I would suddenly not know what to say, or that Bebe would not acknowledge me. I certainly didn't think my mom would pop up, with Mrs. Stevens to boot and have them express how much they suddenly missed their children and wished for their presence at a dinner. And I sure as fuck never thought I'd be going to such a dinner with an ex, and the guy I hoped to have a future with. That sure as hell was never part of the plan.

"Are you fucking listening to me?!" Token suddenly yells in my ear and I jump slightly, almost swerving into the next lane.

"No," I say honestly. How can I? Everything is a bigger mess that it was before I set out to find Bebe. How could I possibly be listening to anything he has to say?! "Token, I gotta go," I say deciding it's best to just quit while I'm ahead before he yells at me anymore.

"No!" he protests. "Stan did you hear what I said before?! Look I just got a call from your mot-"

"I'll call you back later okay?" I say interrupting him and hanging up the phone while releasing a sigh.

He calls back a second later, but I let it go to voicemail. I'm not in the state of mind to listen to what he has to say, because as I near the apartment I realize I need to think of what to say to Kyle. I'm _still_ trying to think of what to say to him as I open the door and slowly walk in.

He seems to at least have left his bedroom because he's sitting at the dining room table with a mug of something that looks hot. He's gazing into it and his shoulders are slumped. He doesn't look too good, and I feel the same way. Without a word I slide into his usual spot since he's sitting in mine. He looks up briefly at me.

"Where did you go?" he asks.

"To talk to Bebe," I answer.

He nods to himself before saying anything. "What did she say?"

"I didn't…" I pause for a second. "I didn't get the chance to really talk to her."

"Oh," he says quietly. "How did she look, was she still mad?"

"No," I breathe out. "She didn't look…anything, actually. I guess she had time to think for awhile…But um," I scratch my ear to distract myself for a second. "The reason we didn't get to talk was because we ran into my mom and her mom. They were shopping for food together. And then, they invited us…and by us I mean you, me, and Bebe, to have dinner tonight…and by invite, I mean demand." I add on second thought.

Kyle stares at me so hard that I have an urge to at the very least, reach my hand out to touch him. He's looking and acting like Bebe did. Very unemotional, and it doesn't suit him.

"You said no way in hell right?" He asks when I don't say anything more.

"I didn't say anything, but Bebe…agreed."

Kyle sets down the mug he had been about to drink from, and it slams on the table. "Why?" he demands.

"Why what? Why did Bebe agree? Or why did I let her agree?"

"Both."

"I don't know, on both counts."

He tightens his grip around the mug. "I'm not going," he mutters and pushes his chair back to stand. I watch as he dumps most of the contents in his mug into the sink. "I'm not," he repeats.

He leans his body over the sink, resting his arms against the counter. "And why would she agree…she's doing something," he mutters. "If we went, it'd be like…we'd be setting ourselves up for something," he bites his lip.

I slowly stand from my own chair and walk over to him. I know if I did touch him, he'd lean away from me or tell me to let him go, so I try to stand companionably behind him.

"But _if _we went…" he goes on. "We could talk to her together." He turns around to face me. "Maybe she'd…I don't know, maybe it'd be easier if she saw us together and saw that we're…we could try again. Then again," he says already contradicting himself. "She might feel like we're ganging up on her and I don't want that…" Finally realizing I haven't said anything he looks at me again. "Do you want to go?"

"No," I answer bluntly. "Why would I? But my mom…" I trail off, not wanting to go down the route that I more or less have a hard time saying no to anything my mom demands of me.

Kyle seems to understand this, and he nods. "Your mom's been really nice to me," he says kinda randomly. "Even after everything I did to her only son…I want to stay in her good favor."

"Kyle she won't be mad if we don't come," I tell him honestly.

"But she'll be disappointed, and she'll want to know why, and I don't want to lie to her…Aw, fuck," he whispers and rubs his head. "Stan?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"When shit hits the fan, since it inevitably will, can you remind me that I'm not alone in this?"

"…are you saying you want to go?"

He's shaking his head as if he can't believe he's about to say he does want to go. "Yeah, let's go."

"…then I'll remind you when the shit hits the fan that you're not alone," I say giving him a very weak smile. He tries to give one back, but his fails miserably.

-

"Should we bring something?" Kyle asks a few hours later as we head out the door.

"Even if I wanted to, it's too late now. Besides Mrs. Stevens told me directly that I wasn't going near a kitchen, so I imagine not."

We head toward my car and just as I'm about to unlock it, Kyle brushes by me. "Can I drive?" he asks and I nod, turning to make my way to his car. "It's okay, we can take yours," he says and I wordlessly hand him my keys before going over to the passenger side. Why Kyle wants to drive my car, I have no idea, but I'm not going to ask about it.

We make our way silently toward my house and just as I'm about to crack under the silence Kyle speaks up.

"You're not going to say it are you?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Say what?" I ask genuinely confused.

"I told you so. You knew Bebe wouldn't give me her permission."

I glance out the side window. It feels weird not to be driving my own car, and yet oddly comforting that Kyle is driving it. "You knew she wouldn't give it either," I say.

"I know," he responds quietly. "I knew she wouldn't give it, I knew it."

"Then why did you bother?" I ask, my voice suddenly hardening. It's then that something occurs to me. "We both knew she'd say no and yet you insisted…were you just, looking for an excuse, a good excuse to not be with me, or-" He tries to interrupt but I don't let him, "Because if that's the case you could have just told me, you didn't have to go through this stupid elaborate shit, I could have taken it! I'm not a frail…thing that would have crumbled because I didn't get my fucking way!"

I stop my tirade when Kyle reaches his right hand over to squeeze my hand. He doesn't do it for too long, just enough to calm me down before he returns it to the wheel. "That's not it, you know that," he says.

"Yeah, yeah," I slump in my seat. "You didn't want to be the asshole friend. But is that really the only reason?"

"Well of course not," he says and I snap my head over to him.

"Then what's the other reason?" I insist, feeling myself starting to get riled up again.

"Because Stan," he says glancing at me before looking back at the road ahead of us. "Because despite what I already knew, I hoped. I fucking hoped that she'd say yes. That'd she'd see the desperation in my eyes and realize that I didn't I _have _to ask her, that I didn't have to be that good of a person. That I wouldn't do something like, steal her ex, unless I really..." he pauses. "Unless I really cared about you."

I frown and fold my arms childishly across my chest, "you didn't steal me from her. We broke up before that."

"But it's going to seem like I did to her. I'm sure of that."

He's probably right, and I know I got a little carried away there for a second, thinking Kyle was only trying to scam his way out of something we barely had. The rest of the drive is quiet and still…that is until we make the turn onto my street.

At that point I feel my inner shackles go up as I notice something is wrong. My parents live on a relatively quiet street. The same street I grew up on. It's just an ordinary suburban street and there's hardly anything exciting about it unless you make something exciting happen. But as Kyle and I draw closer and closer to my house I realize what seems off.

There are way too many cars.

They're everywhere. On both sides of the street, in driveways, it's a mess. The road itself has practically become one-way because it's so narrow. "Where the hell are we going to park?" Kyle mutters to himself, and I wonder the same thing. But as we see my house in the distance I notice there's two free spots right in our driveway. Kyle notices as well and goes ahead and parks behind my mom's car.

Seconds later it seems, Bebe's car pulls in the other empty spot right beside us. Both Kyle and I glance at her and she meets our eyes before we all exit our cars. She gives Kyle a strange look before looking at my car. She must be wondering why he's driving it. Either way she doesn't say anything and turns to glance around at the congested street I live on.

"Wait a minute," she murmurs and I look at her expectantly. "That's Heidi's car," she says more to herself. "And Red's, and Ester's…" she goes on and names a few more of her friends' cars and I realize that she's right. In fact…

"That's Clyde's car," I say and notice automatically that I see Butters' and Bradley's and…

"That's Chef station wagon," Kyle points out and I notice it too. As well as Craig, Tokens, and I swallow the bile starting to come up my throat. I even see Zanadaci's car. _Both _Zanadaci's.

Now realizing who these vehicles belong to the three of us exchange looks and I pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew we shouldn't have come.

Bebe's the first one to react. She walks past Kyle and I and makes her way to the front door, ringing the bell before either of us has a chance to reach the door.

As the door opens and the ring of "SURPRISE!" echoes, probably all the way to North Park, I realize this is one of those valuable lessons in life. One of those moments that you had better not forget. A life lesson really. In this one moment alone I'm taught to always be truthful and honest with the people you love and who love you. I learn I really ought to go with what I feel. I also learn that no matter how much I care for Kyle, no matter how much he wants to make things right, keep things right, that on occasion I will have to be upfront with him when I say I don't want to go somewhere. Because really, who didn't expect a surprise engagement party as the pinnacle of bad timing?

**Kyle**

I wouldn't call this the shit hitting the fan, I anticipate it will be much worse than this. Not that this isn't bad. And it's my entire fault really. I was the one who wanted to come here, not Stan.

The three of us are quickly ushered inside the house, and I'm quickly passed to the side so people can get closer to Bebe and Stan. At least the people who still think they're a loving engaged couple. Because there are a handful of South Parkians who know better. And they're the ones hanging back, looking on awkwardly and trying not to look at me. They're Chef, Craig, Token, and I blink twice at this one. Mr. Zanadaci and another Mr. Zanadaci…no doubt Stan's boss, the younger brother. Damn they do sorta look like twins. But oddly enough, there is a person who I didn't think would be hanging back, but _is _hanging back. Mr. Marsh.

He isn't going anywhere near the huge swarm engulfing Bebe and Stan, and that makes me curious and slightly panicky. Because if he's not around them, doesn't that mean he knows? But how? I can't imagine Stan telling his dad of all people what's been going on. But then…

My thoughts are put on halt at the feel of someone patting my back. I look to the side and see Craig taking a spot on my left, and Token a spot on my right.

"I tried to call you," Craig says.

"My phone was on silent," I tell him.

"I called Stan, but he hung up on me," Token says. "Though I left about fifty messages."

I shrug, at a loss. I can't explain Stan's actions, or lack thereof.

"They didn't already have an engagement party long before I came?" I question confused and Craig and Token shake their heads. "Goddamnit!" I swear and have half a mind to just leave. "This is just…this is just the fucking day of all days isn't it?" I ask more to myself but the guys looking at me bewildered and I decide I might as well enlighten them. "I asked for Bebe's permission today," I say bluntly. "She said no, by the way."

Craig's eyes widen, and Token raises an eyebrow as he glances over at the mob. "Talk about extraordinary timing," he says.

I release a defeated laugh. "Couldn't have put it better myself. So right now, not only are Stan and Bebe not going to have a wedding but Bebe knows about my intentions. She was mad when I told her, but…she's the one who wanted to come here for dinner. So I have no idea what the fuck she's thinking right now. Or Stan for that matter…" I look in their general direction, thought I can't really seem him.

"Knowing Stan he'll probably do his best to get through this whole charade without incident," Token says and Craig nods agreeing, which makes it all the more comical when we all turn at the sound of Stan's voice of protest.

"Okay, that's enough!" We hear him yell over the loud cheerful voices. "Just…stop," he says and the voices flutter to a halt. The room is dead silent and people stop with the condensing to give Stan and Bebe room, and I finally get a look at his face. He looks grim, but Bebe…Bebe doesn't look anything. She's merely gazing at him the same way everyone else is.

"Stan," Mrs. Marsh starts but he gives her a look.

"Mom, please," he says before closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead slightly. "Look," he says glancing at all the guests. There must be at least fifty people cramped in this living room, on the stairs…on the foyer. All close friends and family members. "I…appreciate knowing that you would all come here to celebrate something with me and with Bebe." He doesn't even look at her. "But…" I can tell he's struggling and I'd give my left arm to help him, but this is his problem, not mine. He has to tell everyone and I really wish Bebe would help him instead of standing there. I suppose she's punishing him a little bit.

"But I can't stand here and accept your congratulations and attempt to go through a dinner because there isn't anything to celebrate. We're not getting married, the weddings off, and it has been for awhile."

A murmur floats through the room and I'm willing to bet that there isn't a single eye, or ear not locked in Stan's direction. Yet, no one is saying a word.

"Why?" A voice asks and everyone turns to look at the owner. It's Zanadaci, well that is Stan's boss. His face looks rather calm and he's staring straight at Stan. Stan doesn't look happy at the question, but his boss is completely unmoved and I can tell he's willing Stan to go on, to force him to give everyone an explanation for what he just said.

"Well because," Stan starts and the attention goes back to him. But my eyes linger on his boss for a second and I feel the hair on my neck prickle as he suddenly catches my eye. His face is impassive as he looks at me and it's not until his older brother, Kenny's lawyer nudges him that he moves. He raises a brow at me, before turning back to eyeball Stan.

The elder Mr. Zanadaci gives me a warm smile and I give him a shaky one back before I try to turn my own attention back to Stan. Those brothers are clearly like night and day, and now I understand why Stan is always a bucket of nerves when he talks about his boss. The guy is intense…at the same time…he really cares for Stan. I can tell.

I tune back into Stan, having realized he hasn't answered the question.

"Because he found someone else." Now the attention is on Bebe, and I wince as she grazes her eyes over me before looking toward their crowd of loved ones.

"That is _not _the reason!" Stan growls and everyone watches as he turns on the short blond beside him. "You know that's not it, I broke things off with you way before anything of the sort!"

They start to bicker in front of everyone and I can see that as people watch them, they're realizing what Stan said, what Bebe said was true. I can see the realization on their faces and as I see that I decide it's time to retreat. Slowly backing away, and eventually turning entirely I head for the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible. But all those who already knew about the break up see me clearly and interestingly enough follow suit.

They all already know, there's no point in sticking around for the fireworks. I notice Craig seems to want to stay in the living room, but I see Token say something to him while frowning, before he takes a hold of his elbow and drags him into the kitchen.

Without a word I sit at the dining table, ignoring the pleasant smell of good food cooking around me. Craig and Token join me, taking seati near me, but the adults stay standing. I look curiously at each one of them, wondering how much they know because I certainly didn't tell any of them. My eyes land on Mr. Marsh. He looks somewhat uncomfortable leaning on his kitchen counter.

I can still hear the faint arguing of Bebe and Stan and the occasional voice from someone in the crowd.

"Why aren't you surprised?" I finally ask, breaking the silence in the kitchen as I keep my eyes on Mr. Marsh.

"Um…" he rubs his shoulder and glances to the side. "Stan, sorta told me you guys kinda…kissed, awhile back."

I close my eyes, trying to hide my mortification. I wish Stan had told _me _he told his dad.

"So I'm not that surprised about this," he finishes.

With my eyes still shut, there's no way I can look at his dad. "Then why doesn't his mom know? She looks more shocked than anyone in the room, save Bebe's parents."

"Figured it was something Sharon should hear directly from her son, rather than her husband."

Okay.

"And you Chef?" I ask, opening my eyes, looking at my own boss.

"You told me bits and pieces, I put the rest together. And," he nods his head in Craig's direction. "Craig told me the details."

I turn to glare at Craig and he at least has the decency to look ashamed. "He kept prying me with what was wrong with you the past few weeks," he says in his own defense.

I sigh and let it slide. No point getting mad now. My eyes roam over Mr. Zanadaci, the one I know, and they keep going to rest on his younger brother. I can imagine why Mr. Zanadaci knows, but I don't know why his brother would.

Stan may respect his boss, but he doesn't act as if he would tell him something major like this.

The man shrugs, "he cooks better," is all he says, and while I have no idea what that has to do with anything, I let that go too.

Silence befalls us all again and I lean back into the dining chair. Waiting. Waiting for what I'm not sure. Stan I suppose.

"And you know," Craig's voice rings over the silence. "They weren't right together anyway."

There's a rush of nods throughout the few in the kitchen and even I find myself nodding, because they weren't. Even before I stepped in. They really weren't right for each other.

At the sound of the front door opening and loud whispering coming from the living room I stand up and peek into the living room. "People are leaving," I say out loud for the benefit of everyone else.

"Of course they are," say's the voice I've come to know as the younger Zanadaci brother. "Not much reason to celebrate now. Not to mention the whole thing is highly awkward. I'd bail too if I had to witness that announcement first hand."

"Honestly Achilleus, have some tact," I hear the Mr. Zanadaci I know mutter to his younger brother.

"There's no sense in having tact in this sort of situation Apollo," he clips back. "In any case, as the happy couple is no longer that I can return to my restaurant in hopes it hasn't been burnt down," as he heads for the living room he snags some sort of hour d' oeuvre that was lying on a platter. He scrunches his face together, "mediocre at best, Stan clearly didn't make it," he says to no one in particular.

As he passes by me, he stops and gives me a hard look. His eyes look me up and down and I have the distinct feeling I'm being measure in much the same way that piece of food was. "Tell my head chef that regardless of the current circumstances I still expect him to be on time to work tomorrow." I nod obediently and he says nothing more before heading into the living room and making a discreet exit.

"I have a whole new appreciation for you Chef," Craig says turning to him.

Chef nods grimily and looks at the direction Stan's boss just disappeared from. "Hm, Achilleus Zanadaci is a hard character to deal with," he then looks at the elder Mr. Zanadaci apologetically, but he only laughs.

"I'm well aware that my little brother is a piece of work, but he's always been that way so I'm quite used to it. Though," he pauses. "He has a good point, I think I too should get back to work."

He gives me another smile as he starts to walk past me, "I'll be making my final round to see you and Stan next week," he says.

"There isn't much of a need," I tell him. "We're fine, honestly Mr. Zanadaci, but thanks for looking out."

The older man nods, before nodding at those in the room as he leaves.

"And he is…?" Token trails off.

"Kenny's lawyer," I tell him. "The one handling this whole agreement thing."

"Ah."

"Well I think I'll head out the back door," Chef pipes up.

"We'll do the same," Token says standing and dragging Craig with him. "And Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Stan that I _did _try to warn him."

I snort and nod, watching as the three of them leave, and like that I'm left alone…with Mr. Marsh. Now that everyone in the kitchen has gone their own way he doesn't seem quite so shy or uncomfortable. Instead he's looking right at me, maybe daring me to bolt like the others more or less did.

"I won't leave without Stan," I say quietly.

"It might be awhile."

"I can wait."

The air thickens as we run out of things to say. I don't think I've ever really been left alone with Stan's dad. Not that I'm intimidated, I'm not, but this isn't exactly a happy carefree atmosphere either. No matter how I look at it, in front of me is still Stan's father. A straight laced mountain guy, born and raised in small religious towns. This is the same guy that yanked Stan from cub scouts when he found out who the scout leader was. I'm entitled to be slightly nervous.

"Hungry?" he breaks the ice and I nod, even though I'm not.

He picks up the platter that Stan's boss ate from earlier and sets it down in front of me. Taking a spot across the table. I slowly take a piece and bite into it after he's done so first. I watch as he chews, he seems lost in thought.

"I'm having a hard time remembering when Stan's cooking surpassed his moms. But I remember being surprised," he suddenly says and I only nod, not knowing what else to say. After chewing a few more awkward bites he suddenly releases a loud obvious sigh, and I look at him expectantly. "Would you relax?"

"Huh?" I ask dumbly.

"You're making me nervous, and I have no reason to be nervous."

"I-" I stop and look down at my food.

"I'm not going to sit here and say that when Stan told me what you guys've been doing that I wasn't…well surprised doesn't cut it. I was shocked okay, but I'm not going to condemn you boys or anything."

"…you're not?"

"No," he rubs his temples. "Look, most of us guys, well…we all have that moment where we wonder if girls are really our thing."

"Wondering is one thing, acting out is another," I say bluntly.

"Yeah," he snorts. "And in that sense we're in the minority."

I nod slowly before realization hits. "Wait, _we're_? Mr. Marsh," I start slowly. "You're…? But…"

"Stop confusing yourself. No, I'm not. I'm just saying I've had moments and if you're so hung up about it," he pauses and grimaces. "No pun intended, but if you're so inclined to know more ask your dad, but don't ask me."

"My _what_?!" I almost yell out, and before I can press him for more information someone clears their throat and I look over seeing Stan standing there.

"Let's go," he says and I nod, still in slight amazement. I drop the food in my hand and before I completely turn to follow Stan out and I glance back at his dad. Mr. Marsh has gone back to eating contently and he doesn't take a look up from his food. "Kyle?" Stan questions and I shake my head lightly before following him out to the living room.

The only people left are the Steven's, Mrs. Marsh, and Bebe. No one looks especially happy.

"I think we're entitled to a bit more of an explanation," Mrs. Stevens says, her eyes on her daughter.

"Another time mom," Bebe answers back tiredly.

"No now," her father demands. "Just how did you two go from being ridiculously in love, to completely breaking up for what must be a few weeks now?"

"Another time!" She presses.

"Is it really because of someone else?" Her dad questions, ignoring what Bebe has to say and looks over at Stan. "Did you cheat on my daughter?"

"I wouldn't do something like that!" Stan snaps and I find myself wanting to slink back into the kitchen with Mr. Marsh, but before I have the chance Mrs. Marsh lays a hand on my shoulder.

"That's enough for now," she says quietly. Her voice being the sheet of calm that blankets the accusing air. "There's no reason Kyle needs to be subjected to this."

I practically want slam my head into the wall. When she squeezes my shoulder though all reasoning to bang my head into a wall evaporates and I peer up at her curiously. She keeps her eyes on the Stevens' though.

"We can all discuss this later, though really this isn't between us. It's between Stan, Bebe, and no one else." Again, she squeezes my shoulder and I start to get the feeling that she knows it's not just between Stan and Bebe.

The Stevens seem to be slightly consoled, or at least they agree with what Mrs. Marsh says because they don't protest or press for any more answers. They give their daughter a pointed look, before hugging her and muttering who knows what. They give Stan one last glance, one of perhaps slight disappointment or hatred…I can't tell, before they give me an apologetic nod and leave.

The four of us; myself, Stan, Bebe and Mrs. Marsh stand in silence for awhile and all I hear is the ticking of some clock and the faint chewing of Mr. Marsh still in the kitchen eating.

"Sorry about dinner mom," Stan says breaking the silence.

"Oh it wasn't that big," she says dropping her hand from my shoulder.

"With all those people?" he snorts. "You must have enough food for one hundred."

"Only enough for two, plus a couple trays of snacks, but that's it."

"What?" He asks confused and I look at her in the same way.

"Any good mother knows her son…no matter how much he tries to hide from her," she says keeping tight eye contact with Stan.

"You," Bebe breathes out. "You knew already? Did…"

"No one told me Bebe," she cuts her off gently. "But it was about high time you two told people. Wedding gifts were starting to come in, as were non-refundable wedding bills."

"Mrs. Marsh…I'm…" Bebe swallows. "I'm going to miss not-"

"Oh hush Bebe, you'll always be a daughter to me and Randy, whether or not you marry Stan. You're still more than welcome in our household…remember that."

She nods before covering her mouth and nose with her hand as if she's about to cry. "Thank you," she manages out. When she catches me staring she clears her throat. "I'd better go," she says and turns to leave.

"Bebe wait!" I call out, but she ignores me and walks through the front door without waiting from a goodbye from the Marsh's.

I move to go after her, but Stan grabs hold of my elbow, preventing me from doing so. I give him a pleading look. "I have to try one more time," I say and he sighs, but releases me. Without waiting another second I go after Bebe and make it just in time to see her backing her car up from the driveway.

I reach her car before she shifts into drive and she at least stops the car and rolls down her window, though she refuses to look at me.

"Bebe please," I start out. "Don't do this, we're friends aren't we?"

"Exactly," she bites out. "Stop asking for my permission Kyle, because you won't ever get it."

"I just-"

"You don't need it anyway."

"W-what?"

"You can do whatever you want," she says bitterly. "You don't _need _my permission. You can make your own decisions and choices. What you choose to do is of no relation to me."

"But it is because I don't want to-"

"You don't want to hurt me?" She asks and I nod slightly. "But you have Kyle, you have! And I…" she shakes her head. "I can't do this. I can't talk to you. Not about this, not right now. Please get off the side of my car so I can go home."

I reluctantly pull away and she doesn't waste a second driving off. I stand in the middle of the road watching her disappear and a few moments later Stan joins me at my side.

"What happened?" He asks.

"She said I could do whatever I want," I whisper out.

"Then does that mean…" he trails off and I hear the hope in his voice. Despite the situation it makes me smile.

"She didn't give her permission; she just said I didn't need to have it. That I'm free to make my own choices."

"And…are you?"

I close my eyes for a moment, not wanting to see Bebe's face when she said that. It was pure defeat. This isn't want I wanted, or how I wanted it to be. I wanted her to be happy for me. But I realize now I was asking for entirely too much. She's right. I won't ever get her permission and it pains me to think that.

My eyes pop open at the feel of Stan's fingers brushing my own. He's doing so cautiously, but the faint breath of warmth from his fingers causes a stirring sensation in my stomach. And with one last fleeting glance in the direction Bebe once occupied, I take a hold of Stan's hand, trying to hide my sigh.

It's as if that single grasp of his hand opened up the flood gates because I'm suddenly wrapped completely in his arms and his face is taking a deep inhale from the crook of my neck. "She'll be okay with it one day Kyle, you'll see."

Maybe I will see, and even if I don't there's no way I can hate the way I'm being held. The comfort I feel, the rightness of a situation I once thought was so wrong. What's that obnoxious saying? Sometimes you have to lose one thing to gain another? Or is it when one door closes, another opens?

Whatever it is I know how it's playing into my life right now. And while I'm not happy about it, while I'd rather have both doors wide open I'm no longer selfish enough to think I can have that. It's one or the other, and I love the door I chose.

"Hey," Stan mutters in my ear. "Don't forget that you're not in this alone."

Fuck, how I love the door I chose.

**-FG**

**AN: **Oh snap! One down, 3 to go. That's right, now I'm giving you all a number. Only _**three**_ more chapters and I'll _try _to make it quick.


	39. Kyle and Stan IX

**AN: **You guys are going to MURDER me, but…this chapter is ALL (well 95 percent) about Craig and Token! -hides under Christmas tree- I know there's only two chapters left, but to be perfectly honest I got tired of writing about them. -dodges rocks- I realize you guys are all about the stanandkylestanandkylestanandkyle, and I realize I shouldn't be this cruel on Christmas, but…things could be worse right? XD Now I have a new favorite couple in the SP fandom which completely does not exist! Oh! The things I DO to myself!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

"Ah, no fuck!" I hear him yell from his bedroom. I'm sitting in the kitchen eating the usual delicious breakfast he's made for me and as, what is becoming usual with him, he's running late.

He rushes into the room looking frazzled.

"What is it?" I ask my mouth full of omelet.

"I can't find my term paper! The one I worked on for like a month! And it's due today and I'm supposed to be in class in ten minutes!"

"Why don't you just print out a new one?" I ask him, inhaling a large gulp of orange juice. _Freshly squeezed_ orange juice. I swear Stan just never cuts corners with food.

Stan says nothing for a moment before looking at me and scampering back into his room. I can hear the sounds of the computer being turned on as well as the printer. A few moments later he rushes back into the kitchen grinning at me.

"What the fuck would I do without you?" He asks joyously as he waves his paper around like it's some sort of honorary flag.

His happiness makes me happy and I feel myself warming up, "hmm…" I ponder jokingly beginning to list all the things I've done for Stan to ensure he's not late. "You'd be fired or at the very east demoted, you'd have a permanently pissed mother, you'd have failed at least two exams-"

He cuts me off frowning, "yes. Thank you. I remember now." He grabs his bag and keys and heads for the door, "the guys are getting together for a game of basketball later on this afternoon, did…you want to come?"

My smile fades as I look at him. This is the first time he's invited me to a game. Not that they've been playing lately and as far as I know he still doesn't know about that one time that I followed him a few months back. "Yeah, sure," I reply trying to sound nonchalant about it.

"Cool, we meet at the court near Starks Pond okay?"

I nod silently and Stan nods back, "see you this afternoon then." He says and he pauses at the door, and I take that as my cue to stand up from the table. He steps away from the door and meets me halfway, his lips colliding with mine.

It's sort of a routine we've fallen in, or as far as routines can go for four days. It's nothing special, just a goodbye kiss but it sends me swooning and Stan never looks to be much different. We haven't done anything more than that since the night of that staged engagement party. Not to say I think either of us wouldn't mind, but we both seem to be a little hesitant to take that step. I don't know…I guess I feel like if we do that then it's really sealed our fates. Amazing fates, but…I still have my reservations and thankfully Stan seems to notice.

He leans back slightly only to rest one of his hands behind my head before he pulls back forward. He stops just a breath away from my lips and I close my eyes, taking in a slight gasp of air as he kisses the corner of my mouth. Stan lingers there for a second before he brushes over the side of my parted mouth, interlocking them.

I'm not sure when but when I feel the loss of heat from the back of my head I know he's pulled away. My eyes flutter open and I feel the blush stain my cheeks as it always does. I can never keep eye contact with him afterward for fear of doing something stupid to ruin the mood.

I only glance at him when he's caught my chin in his hand, almost forcing me to look at him. I shiver slightly at seeing the look in his eye, it gets stronger with everyday that passes between us and I'm curious as to what he'll do the day he decides to act on that glazed over predator look. Blinking my eyes quickly a few times I grip onto the sides of his shirt as he briefly licks the edge of my top lip. I can't help it. My eyes close again on their own and I have half a mind to yank him forward. He always does this. He leaves me wanting more, he makes me feel like the most appreciated person. It seems like time stops, and just for the moment nothing and no one else matters. I feel as if I've become part of him. I feel the rumbling inside me just wanting to burst out…but I always cap it. I always swallow the emotion and release him, like I do now.

He doesn't seem to mind, or if he does he's good at hiding it.

"You taste like orange juice," he mutters in a hoarse voice.

I swallow the air trying to escape me, "_freshly squeezed _orange juice," I correct him.

Stan laughs lightly and pulls me toward him to wrap me in a tight hug. "See you at the court," he says into my ear and I attempt to nod, before he pulls away grinning at me.

And then he leaves. And I allow myself to fall backward on the edge of the couch for support.

I hide my face in my hands, though there's no one to hide it from and smile into them.

Jumping about ten feet in the air at the sudden scream of my cell phone I collect myself from the ground where I had actually fallen and grip my phone tightly, forcing myself to calm down. "Hello?"

It's quiet on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?" I question again and glance at the screen on my phone. But it's already past showing who this number should be. Now all it shows is the seconds ticking away of wasted minutes.

"Did you just have sex or something?" Craig's voice filers in through the speakers.

"What?!" I yell into the phone. "Of course not, why would you ask something like that?!"

He laughs suddenly and I let out a shaky breath as I decide to prop myself against the door Stan only just left out of, rather than claiming a seat anywhere.

"You sounded like after sex. Your voice was all husky, and shit Kyle just the tone of your voice sent a shiver down the nether regions."

I growl and tell him to fuck off. "What do you want?" I bark into the phone, not at all happy that the emotions I was feeling were so easily picked up through a phone call with Craig of all fucking people.

"Making sure you're still picking me up for work today is all."

"Yeah, I told you I would."

"Well awesome man, but you're totally late. That's why I called you…now I see you were just _busy _in the best sense of the word."

I can feel him grin into the phone and before I can swear his very name again my eyes catch the nearest clock and bolt up. Shit! I AM late! That kiss was longer than that I thought! "Fuck, I'll be over in twenty minutes! Sorry!"

"No sweat," he says lazily. "I'll meet you outside my house okay?"

"Sure, sorry again!" I say and hang up the phone.

Running through my daily custom of getting ready, I do it in less than the fourth of the time it normally takes me. Before I know it I'm speeding down the road to Craig's house. When I get there I see him sitting on his porch steps looking as if the world could do a lot better in entertaining him. Upon stopping at the edge of the road I honk. It didn't seem like he saw my car, even if he _was _looking right at it. He blinks and a smile forms on his face as he pulls himself up and jogs over to my Hybrid.

After I push the automatic unlock button he clambers in and before he even has a chance to shut his door I've pulled out onto the road.

"Whoa there, let's not die on the way to work," he says as he straps himself in, and even going as far to pull the seatbelt taut as if I'm really that reckless of a driver.

"Sorry," I sigh and slow down.

"Don't sweat it," he answers and gazes out the window. Driving to downtown I realize there's a distinct difference in having Craig with me. It's that he isn't talking. He can normally talk about absolutely nothing for hours with or without you, but now he's quiet. He's not even hounding me about why I might have sounded a little breathless when he called. I thought for sure he'd be pounding me for information concerning that.

"You…alright?" I finally ask as I make a left turn.

"Oh yeah, wonderful," he replies in such a matter that lets me know he is anything but that.

"Craig I just talked to you on the phone and you sounded fine," I point out. "Now…dude what's the matter?"

"Nah it's nothing…" he trails off and I start to worry in thinking he might actually not tell me. "But," he starts again and I sigh in relief. As long as he's willing to talk about it I don't have to be too concerned about him. "After I called you, I called Token, figured we could hang out and all since we haven't really in awhile. And I wanted to be sure he was still going to come play basketball with all of us this afternoon." He pauses and glances at me, "Stan invited you right?" I nod and he nods before turning back to the passing houses. "So I called him and he said he wouldn't be going because he had other plans."

I hold my tongue from saying 'that's it?'

"And you know me," he chuckles lightly, but there's nothing funny about his demure. "I have to know things, so when I pressed him enough he said he wasn't coming because he had a date with some girl. I already forgot her name," he mumbles the last part to himself. "Man Kyle, he's blowing us off for some chick!"

I know it's much more than that. I know it is. I've had my suspicions about Craig and Token ever since I saw them interact with each other. I've never asked because I had my own shit to deal with…but now that most of that's over I wonder…

"It's…just a date," I say in hopes of comforting him a little bit.

"It's not just a date," he bites back defensively. "For as much as he plays around he never goes on dates. Token isn't the kind of guy that dates just to date. He dates when he wants to get serious…I didn't even know he liked anyone," he whispers and leans his head further back into his seat.

I want to pry more, but Cherry Kiss is looming in the distance so I drop it and don't ask. I doubt I could get it out of him anyway…but I bet Stan could get something out of Token…

As I pull into my usual parking spot, I make a note to call Stan on my lunch break.

Cherry Kiss has already been opened for an hour so when Craig and I walk in it's not surprising to see a few people already seated. They're enjoying coffee, fruit, and some breakfast sandwiches Chef just added to the menu a few days ago. I give a nod and smile to acknowledge them, they're all regulars, before I head into the back with Craig to clock in for the day.

Once Chef has briefed Craig and I on the day's expectations he sends Craig onto the floor with a full coffee pot, and just as I'm about to follow he grabs a hold of my shoulder stopping me from doing so. I give him a confused look and wait for him to explain why he's stopped me.

"One second there Kyle," he says and gestures for me to sit down on a free metal chair that's leaning against a wall.

Shrugging to myself I grab the chair and plop myself down on it once it's been unfolded. "What's up?" I ask looking up at him.

He looks mildly unsure, as if he doesn't know how to approach the subject. Finally he sighs and almost rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "What's up with Craig?"

I slouch and grimace, "so you noticed?"

"That he's not being an obnoxious boy early in the morning? Yeah, I've noticed."

Pulling listlessly on one of my curls I opt out on telling Chef what I'm guessing. It's not really my place to tell him and there is a 1 percent chance that I'm wrong. "I'm taking care of it," I tell him, another reminder to call Stan to see if he can talk to Token.

"Hmm," he doesn't look like he believes me but also he seems to realize that there's nothing he can do about it. "Guess I can't do anything on that one except to trust you."

I nod in agreement and stand up to get going but he holds up a hand. Stopping me from moving further and I find myself back in my chair, tilting my head to the side. "What?" I ask.

He grins at me slyly and I narrow my eyes in response. I don't like the look on his face. "So…you and Stan?"

I bolt up from my chair, grab my apron, and head for the floor trying my damnedest to hide my blush. I'm not going to talk about Stan and me with my boss, even if it is Chef. Even if Chef is one of few adults that I feel is more like a brother, I can't, it's still too embarrassing. I'm a little worried that he'll call me back, but he lets me go, laughing to himself as I walk away.

The rest of the morning shift goes without anything of importance. Chef every so often will give me a wink which always causes me to redden, and Craig more or less stays to himself. It's when Token walks in with a pretty brunette with green eyes that I realize things aren't going to get much better.

I intercept Craig before he walks over to the couple, glaring daggers at him.

"Token!" I say cheerfully and gesture to a booth him and the girl can sit at. "I don't think I've seen you come in here before."

He nods his thanks at the table before settling on one side, the girl in the other. "Soup, salads, and sandwiches aren't really my thing, but Claire likes this kinda thing. Kyle, Claire LaRose, Claire this is Kyle Broflovski," he says as way of introduction before he scans the menu that's overhead the registers.

"Oh you're Kyle," she says with a smile before reaching out her hand. "Token talks about you a lot."

"Does he?" I mutter glancing at him before offering her a smile and shaking her hand.

"No more than I talk about Stan, Clyde, Butters, or any other," he says before looking at me. "A ham sandwich and a chicken noodle will be good for me Kyle, with just water."

"Sure thing," I say and scribble it down on my notepad before turning back to Claire.

"I'll have the same," she says, smiling over at Token and as I nod to add the quantity of the order to two, I peek over at Token.

He catches me right off the bat and his eyes narrow at me. I make a move to head straight for the kitchen when he urges me forward with a finger.

"Um, yeah?" I question and take a slow step forward, lowering myself down to his level when I realize he wants to keep it on the down low.

"Keep Craig away from this table okay?"

I freeze and look at him confused, but his face hardens and I find myself nodding. Standing back up I glance over at Craig who's taking the orders of a nearby table, though he's mostly looking in this direction. Or more correctly at Claire. This might not be the easiest thing I've ever done.

Walking away from Token's table I once again intercept Craig before he turns to make his way to his best friend. "Could you take these orders to the kitchen for me? Thanks!" I say beaming, and not giving him the chance to refuse.

"I-" he starts but I don't let him get further before I'm gently pushing him in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll get tables 4, 6, and 10, you just give those orders to Mike," I prod and he frowns at me before doing so, though sparing one last glance in Token's direction.

Once he's safely in the back I let out a long exhale. This is going to be one of those days; I can feel it in my bones.

While I do my best to follow Token's orders, it's starting to wear me down. More than once I've had to drop what I was doing to steer Craig away from them, and by the time their food orders were ready I had to switch the plates I was holding with Craig's. Chef's been snorting with laughter most of the time and Craig is slowly but surely realizing what I'm doing, and he's getting pissed off.

At some point Token flags me over and I walk over wearily to glare at him, "tell me

you're leaving?" I demand to know. Claire at this point has left to go to the bathroom so it's just Token and I, with Craig of course hovering nearby.

"She wants to stay for dessert," he says dryly.

"Go somewhere else," I respond.

"She doesn't want to."

"And you're listening to her because?" I press.

He waves a hand at me, "you wouldn't understand. Can you just get us some of those apple pastries to go?"

"If it's to go I'll fucking do anything," I mutter. "But you owe me an explanation. Craig is going to stab me in a few seconds."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he says seeming genuinely sorry. I'm about to ask for that explanation now when the tinkle of the front doors bell grabs my attention.

"Welcome to…" my automatic greeting trails off as I'm met with Bebe and Mrs. Stevens. Mrs. Stevens is eyeing Bebe with concern before she looks to me with a bright smile.

"Kyle! I'm so glad you're here, can we get a seat?"

As I eye her, nodding numbly my eyes drift over to Bebe who gives me a look before turning her head in another direction. Before I can say anything more I notice Claire returning from the bathroom and Craig heading straight for her. I close my eyes briefly before looking skyward, praying for some divine intervention.

Why that intervention comes in the form of high pitched voices, clouds of perfume, and inane chattering I'll never understand. But I've learned that sometimes it's just not best to question God's will.

"Cutie!"

Porscha is the first to reach me and she squeezes me tightly before kissing my cheek. "Oh my gosh, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"

I pat her back gently, all while wondering how to pry her off me.

"Oh my gosh!" she suddenly shrieks as she pulls away from me. I turn to see what grabbed her attention and blink in confusion as she approaches Claire who'd stopped just before coming into contact with Craig. Pushing Craig rather forcefully away she looks down at Claire before meeting her eye. "Those are the new 'Argentina's' from Jimmy Choo aren't they?!"

I sigh to myself, happy that Porscha has managed to steer Claire away from Craig. At the same time I'm a little surprised that I hadn't noticed those heels on Claire before…

"Lexus, how's your mother doing?" I hear Mrs. Stevens ask and turn my attention back to the Stevens'. Lexus is more or less ignoring Bebe, but she gives her mother a bright…somewhat fake smile.

"She's well, thanks for asking. Did you two just get her too?" She asks cocking her head to the side

"We did actually, we," here Mrs. Stevens pauses and glances at me. "We were just going to have Kyle seat us and I actually wanted to-"

"Great! We can all sit together," she says already walking to a table on her own making it clear that Mrs. S and Bebe are to follow. They do so without complaint and as I give Mrs. Stevens a weak smile, my attention falls quickly on Bebe who's looking at anything but me.

"Bebe," I mutter and reach out to grab her wrist, but she's quick in yanking her arm away before giving me a hard look. She says nothing and continues to follow her mother and Lexus.

"Oh let her go, she isn't worth all the fuss," Mercedes says behind me and as I turn to reprimand her I see her face is giving me a warm yet concerned look. She carefully brushes her hair behind ears and looks me over carefully. "Did we come at a good time?" She questions as she goes back to eyeing Porscha who has completely driven Craig away, and over at Lexus who's taking up Bebe and Mrs. Stevens' time.

"You could say that," I mutter, giving her a smile in return. "I'd been ready to pull my hair out actually."

She tsks at me, while shaking your head. "I wouldn't allow you to touch that wonderful red hair in such a way."

I laugh lightly, feeling relief flood me. More often than not Mercedes has a way of calming me down.

"So who's the girl with Porscha?" she asks conversationally and I realize I'm being lowered down to a table for two. I glance over at Chef but he only shrugs and I'm going to take it that as he's okay with this unplanned break of mine. He is used to it after all, and not even he can fight the ex-Raisins girls.

"You mean you don't know?" I ask surprised and Mercedes shakes her head.

"Then why is Porsch…" I trail off and gesture toward Porscha who has joined Claire and Token. Claire looks rather animated, Token looks rather bored.

"Acting so friendly?" She finishes for me and I nod my head. "Because she's Porscha," she states and after a second of thinking of that statement I nod my head in agreement. It makes perfect sense really.

"Her names Claire LaRose," I say recalling the girl's entire name from Token's introduction and she's Token's…" I pause, realizing that I don't know. "Token's date, I guess," I mutter quietly, peering over at them.

"She can't be," Mercedes states bluntly. "She isn't his type at all."

"He has a type?" I ask looking back over at her as she nods. "And you know it?" She nods again.

"And she's not it."

"…Are you sure?"

"Positive."

I rub the back of my neck in irritation, "then can you tell Craig that, he's driving me crazy."

"Why should I tell him that?"

"Well because," I press and meet her eye. "You mean you don't…"

"Don't what?"

Is it possible, that Mercedes _doesn't _have any clues about Craig and Token? Can she honestly not have odd vibes about their friendship as I do? But…I've started to get the notion in my head that Mercedes knows everything. How or why I don't know, but I thought she just did.

"Er, never mind," I finish.

She gives me a questionable look before resting her head on her French manicured hand. "It's cute though," she says.

"What is?"

"Token with a green eyed brunette."

"You think?" I turn my eyes back to the table he's occupying and look back and forth at him and Claire. I guess I can see it, but now that I think about it Token doesn't look slightly interested in Claire, and while she's been nothing but pleasant she doesn't seem particularly interested in him either. They just look…friendly.

"Mh hm," she says before waving down Craig who stomps toward our table.

"Water please," she says sweetly up at him.

"Kyle can get it for you I'm sure," he grinds his teeth together and I cast my eyes away from him. I can feel his anger and annoyance at me rising significantly and I'm no longer looking forward to the basketball game we'll be having after work.

"He's on break," she responds. "So maybe two waters?" she adds, glancing at me and I scowl back at her. She's rubbing salt on an open wound and I can't pretend that she doesn't know that.

Craig glares at me before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the kitchen. I'm willing to bet that Mercedes and I will never see our waters.

"Mercedes," I start to warn out.

"While not a particularly attractive guy like you, those green eyes of his absolutely glow with beauty when he's mad," she says her eyes twinkling.

"Is that so?" I ask dryly and sigh to myself.

She nods sharply, "now to change the subject slightly?"

I raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Since we were just talking about glowing…Red you're positively radiant! It's that cute blue eyed hunk of yours that's making you so isn't it? You _have _to tell me, and I swear I'll keep it between us," she reaches over and grabs my hands holding onto me tightly. "How's the sex?"

"Mercedes!" I wrench my hands away, trying my best to sound appalled but really I'm just doing all I can to hide my fire engine red face AND not laugh at the absurdity.

"Oh sweetie, there's no reason to hide it from me! Besides, between us, I've always been a tad envious of Bebe being with Stan. I mean talk about sex on legs when it comes to Stan Marsh," she sighs wistfully.

"Mercedes!" I practically screech again and she looks at me oddly.

"What is it hon, it's not like you don't know that too right? Or…do you mean to tell me you two haven't jumped each other yet?"

Instead of answering I bury my head in my hands completely mortified. Since when has Mercedes gone from an all knowing sweetheart to a completely off the mark crude mother who asks one too many personal questions?!

"But honey, why not?" she goes on to ask.

"'Cedes, I can't…" I don't finish my sentence.

She leans in slightly, "can't get it up? Darling there's things that can hel-"

"No!" I slam my hands on the table. "I mean…that's not what I mean! I can't talk about this here, I'm at work!" I hiss at her. "You know," I say leaning back into my chair and closing my eyes all while trying to reign in my emotions. "You act and think the exact way Stan's told me Kenny has. The all knowing air, the blunt way of saying things…the slight crude way of approaching other people's personal matters…"

When she doesn't respond I open my eyes slowly seeing her looking down at her hands, fiddling with her nails.

"Someone's gotta keep his memory alive right?" she says quietly, smiling at the table while at the same time very small tears form at the corner of her eye.

"Mercedes?" I question floored at this sudden change in personality, this sudden change in demure at the mention of Kenny. "I'm sorry…" I suddenly find myself saying. "I…I didn't know you were close with him. Stan's never mentioned-"

"He wouldn't know. Not unless Kenny said something, which I doubt. And," she looks up at me. "We weren't close, not really. But we were partners for a few school projects throughout both high school and middle school. He was funny, and kind…had a bit of a perverted streak in him." I watch her smile at this, and watch it fade as soon as it appears. "You couldn't _really _call us friends. I think we both would have liked it if we were…but…" she bites her lip. "His family wasn't exactly…and my family was…" she sighs to herself.

"Opposite sides of the train tracks right?" I whisper and she nods her head slowly.

"I always liked that he was sharper, and smarter than his genes should have allowed. It got me thinking that if he could do what he shouldn't have been able to do, then so should I. So, while I kept the fashion sense and the air, I decided there was nothing wrong with maybe brushing up with the textbooks a little. He was more like an idol…than a friend. Someone I wanted to be just like…" she eyes me wearily. "Does that sound a little too stupid?"

"Not really," I tell her honestly. "And in a way, on some level…we're in the same boat. You did, what I did. Casting away a friendship because the friend in question didn't fit your way of life."

She looks at me knowingly as she glances around at the other customers.

I narrow my eyes slightly, "that still doesn't explain why you know entirely too much."

Mercedes laughs lightly as she turns her head to look out the window of Cherry Kiss. "Kenny may have taught me a thing or two about being observant, that's all." She stands at that, gathering her purse and fixing her hair slightly. "Porscha, Lexus!" She calls out over the conversations floating around us. "We have our spa treatment in twenty minutes remember?"

I watch as Porscha and Lexus seem to quickly finish their conversations at their respective tables and while Mrs. Stevens and Bebe remain at their table after Lexus has left, Token and Claire stand up as if to leave as well.

"You're going?" I ask him as he and the girls walk toward the door, where the table Mercedes and I had been occupying was near.

"Yeah, sorry about the Craig thing, but I was dutifully punished," he says grimacing over at the girls. "I now know more than I _ever _wanted to know about fucking shoes. Do you know why the British will never buy certain Manolo Blahnik heels? I do. I _fucking_ _do_. I left you an incredible tip."

Patting him gently on the back, I turn to give Claire a goodbye and tense when Porscha throws herself at me. "We didn't even get to talk!" She cries out.

"We didn't either!" Lexus adds coming up to the other side of me, hugging that end.

"Then it's a good thing you girls know where I work right?" I say in amusement.

"That's true," they say together and slowly back away from me.

"We'll be back tomorrow then!" Lexus decides and Porscha nods her head fiercely in agreement.

"I'll see you this afternoon at the basketball game Kyle," Token says and before I can question him on it as I thought Craig said he couldn't go because he had a date, he's already out the door with Claire.

Sighing I turn back to the former Raisins. "I'll see you girls tomorrow," I tell them gently as they turn to each other and start to talk over when the best time to see me tomorrow will be. Mercedes bypasses me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Winking at me she nods her head in the direction of where Craig is standing in front of the register with his arms folded, glaring at me.

"The brunette bombshell is waiting to be appeased," she says, almost laughing.

"I thought you said he wasn't attractive?" I point out, slumping slightly.

"Normally, but when he's mad…" she trails off laughing. "See you tomorrow cutie," finishes and leaves me to my fate. And as I'm left standing there, looking at Craig and thinking over how the best way to go about telling him Token told me to keep him away from him, something occurs to me.

Claire isn't the only brunette with green eyes.

I rub my forehead tiredly noting that perhaps Mercedes is a little too observant.

**Stan**

"He really likes French cuisine doesn't he? Should we serve that?" I ask slowly, looking over all the possible menu options.

Zanadaci and I are in his small office, while the others are in the kitchen cooking as usual. Apparently there's a food critic coming by today, something he neglected to tell me earlier, and we're in a pinch over what to serve the guy.

"I hate French food," Zanadaci says. "I hate the smell, texture, and look of it."

"Okay…" I eye my boss critically. "But _you _don't have to eat it."

"We're not making French food, it's what he'd expect and I don't want to deal with it. We'll make something German."

I watch him stand, dropping my mouth slightly. "But…" I look over the folder I have opened on Zanadaci's desk that goes over the particulars of this certain critic. Under favorite food there's French, under least favorite there's German.

"If we can make him like a dish of his least favorite food, we'll score better points," he tells me as if it's obvious.

I slouch slightly. I understand his reasoning, I do. But it would be nice if for once he would do the expected, rather than taking a gamble.

"Do I know any German recipes?" I wonder out loud.

"No, so no time like the present to learn. We'll make hasenpfeffer. It's a traditional dish."

"Is it hard to make?" I question and watch as he gives me a disgusted look. "Never mind," I sigh.

He turns to rummage through a few books that are lying haphazardly on a side chair. He picks up one in particular that has a red flag marked on the side of the book.

"The only ingredients we don't have are the currant jelly and the hare."

"Hair?"

"_Hare_! Don't act like an idiot."

I snort to myself, "you could've just said rabbit."

"But it's not rabbit," he snarls and tosses the book toward me. I open it and read over the recipe. It doesn't sound hard at all, and looking over the ingredients I'm getting a little excited to make it. To put it forward it doesn't sound like anything more than a glorified rabbit stew, but I like stew and I like rabbit.

"I'll send Margaret to get the missing ingredients, I want you here understand?" He says after I've finished reading through the list and the procedures.

"For now I'll double check to make sure we have everything on this list, then I'll join the others with the usual restaurant meals," I say to him and he nods his head in approval.

"Take a break first. In fact, wait here for a second," he leaves his office and I wait in silence by myself for a minute or two before he returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of cheap looking wine. I glance at the label. I've never heard of the company.

"Wine, cheap wine? Now? Don't we have to be out in the kitchen in a little bit?"

"Can't hold a single glass?" He asks, already sitting himself back down in his chair and pouring himself a glass.

"It's not that I can't hold wine I just…we're working."

He starts to pour another glass and slides it over to me, before leaning back in his chair. I can tell he's itching for a cigarette, but he'd never smoke anywhere near his kitchen. He barks at people who smoke anywhere within 20 feet of his kitchen, customers included.

"Your boss is offering you a glass of wine on the job, and you're going to reject it?" He asks, raising a curious eyebrow.

I take the damn glass, and have a sip. It's not _too_ bad. Not exactly gourmet stuff, then again did I really think he'd pop out one of his aged expensive bottles so the two of us could sip wine in his office?

"What are you up to?" I ask suspiciously.

"I want your inhibitions slightly dropped so I can ask about your boyfriend," he says bluntly, taking his own slow drink.

I almost drop my glass, but catch it before I do. He frowns at me slightly seeing as how my glass was hovered over the file on the food critic.

"Mr. Zanadaci," I groan out. "Cant you ever just…" I trail off, not knowing what I really want to say. He's always blunt, I shouldn't be surprised. "What do you want to know?" I ask sullenly, then I realize Mr. Zanadaci said boyfriend.

Is that what Kyle and I are now? I hadn't really thought about it before…I mean, I know I've enjoyed the past few days with him more than I've ever enjoyed anything, but I hadn't ever labeled what it was that we were becoming. But…boyfriends…I bite my lip in concentration. I guess that…sounds kinda nice.

"How are you and your pretty little redhead doing? My brother's horribly vague about the two of you. Seems to think you both want privacy. In my opinion boys your age don't _deserve _privacy, not with the way your minds work."

"P-p-pretty little redhead?" Is all I can manage out and he eyes me wearily.

"Don't look at me like I'm some perverted old man. I don't have any interest in 19 year old _children_. But I can appreciate beauty in any age, in any form. So tell me how you boys are doing, can he make a good risotto?"

I quickly find my voice as I scowl at him, "Mr. Zanadaci, you can't judge a person by their ability to make risotto, it isn't fair."

He turns back and forth slowly in his chair, studying me. "Well, what can he make?"

"What makes you think Kyle can make anything?"

"What other reason would you have for being so interested in him? Why would you leave your fiancée/girlfriend of most of your life to be with him if he didn't compliment you? As I've said before, you've cooked far better since his arrival into town. I assume it's because he's taught you a few things about cooking."

I sit and think about this for a second. "Mr. Zanadaci, Kyle is…by far, the _worst_ cook I've ever met in my life. I never would have thought it possible for one single person to be so bad. He can't boil water, can't grate cheese, can't heat up anything in a microwave, he can't cut a fish, he doesn't know how to store pasta, he can't toss a salad for crissake," I let out a long exasperated sigh. "Really, the only thing he's good for in a kitchen is standing there and playing the role of a pretty little redhead…but," I pause, a smile instantly coming to my face. "He tries. He likes to help me, he wants to help me. He sucks at it, but he doesn't give up, and even though he makes a bigger mess when he does help, it's fun. And there's no time I enjoy cooking more then when I get to cook with him…even if it is a danger to both our lives."

From the look on his face it occurs to me that I've rambled a little bit and turn my head away in embarrassment.

"What…a passionate speech," he finally says.

We're interrupted at the sound of a knock on his door and he yells at the knocker to open his door. A side chef pops his head around and just as he's about to say something he pauses. No doubt he's taking in the scene of Zanadaci and me sitting comfortably and sipping wine while we're both on the time clock.

"What do you want?" Zanadaci growls.

"Oh, erm, sir your presence is needed in the kitchen."

He sets his wine glass down and stands in annoyance. "This had better be good," he mutters as he bypasses me. "You stay here," he says to me. "And enjoy the rest of the bottle."

"The…bottle?" I question confused.

"We both know that wine's cat piss. It'd take ten of them to get a buzz, I'll see you on the floor in ten, got it?"

"Yes sir," I mutter and watch him and the side chef leave.

I don't really think I'll drink the rest of the wine bottle, but since it _is _sitting in front of me…and the boss is right. The alcohol level makes it more…well, cat piss, than wine. I try to get comfortable in my seat, enjoying the fact that I don't have to deal with the stress the kitchen creates for a little while longer. I think I could almost fall asleep, but there's a buzzing noise, and I realize my chef's jacket is vibrating, if only slightly.

Taking a step from my chair I open Zanadaci's door and peer out. He's yelling at people, which means he's good and busy. Closing the door, and settling myself back into my chair I reach into my pocket and extract my cell phone which had been on vibrate.

"Kyle?" I say surprised into the phone. "I thought you'd be at work right now?"

"I'm on break, what about you? I expected to get your voicemail."

"I'm…" I glance at the glass in my other hand and the bottle near it. "On break too," I finish.

He laughs into the phone and I notice, not for the first time, what an amazing laugh he has. "Perfect timing then," he says. "I have a favor to ask actually."

"Yeah?" I question, trying my best not to sound suspicious.

"At the basketball game, when it's over do you think you could…" he pauses. "Talk to Token for a bit?"

Okay. I wasn't expecting that.

"Huh?" I voice my confusion.

"I think…there's something going on between him and Craig. Craig's in a bit of a mood, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with this date Token just had."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," I say stopping him. "Token had a _date_? Are you positive that's what it was?"

There's silence on his end of the phone for a second, "yeah, I mean…I'm pretty sure. He came into Cherry Kiss earlier with this pretty brunette girl."

"TokenBlack?" I ask to clarify.

"Do you know another other Token's?" Kyle asks sounding a little on the frustrated side.

"Guess not, but that's so weird…and wow…it's just, Token never goes on dates. He only does that when-"

"He's serious I know, Craig told me," he interrupts. "Anyway, talk to him will you?"

"Sure, I'm…kinda starting to get the feeling that there's more those two aren't telling us anyway…Is that all you called me for?" I ask the last part hesitantly.

"Pretty much, why?"

No reason, except just talking to him is making my heart race increase tenfold.

"Nothing, I'll see you at the Pond right?"

"Yeah! Later!" he voices and hangs up the phone.

"Later," I sigh as I flip my phone shut and stuff it back into my pocket.

I don't want to be the clingy…boyfriend, but he could have at least, well no, it's better to not be on that mind set.

Now as I sit in peace for my last three minutes I need to think of exactly how I'm going to approach Token with this. Not that the guys unapproachable, we're friends, he's just…well, when he doesn't want you to know something he won't tell you. Case closed.

Besides, the last thing I want to do is pry into his relationship with Craig. That always seems to set him up on thin ice, which maybe is reason enough to pry. I have been curious about those two. I'll never forget that time I spent over at Token's and Craig got upset over the simple idea that Token wouldn't invite him to stay as well. Craig's eyes were more than annoyed and pissed, he seemed a little hurt, but I hadn't pried.

Now I wonder…

-

"Thought you had your_date_?" Craig asks brazenly to Token and I watch Kyle cringe from afar.

All the guys have just arrived for, what's supposed to be, a friendly game between good friends. I haven't hung out with some of the others in ages, and I thought this would be a nice way to kill some time, but the second Token arrived I practically saw Craig's eyes go red.

"I had it early so I could come here, you saw Claire didn't you?" Token questions back like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Alright that's enough, Jesus," Clyde says as he rests a hand on Craig. "Let's split up for teams okay?"

"Good idea," Token says and turns his back on Craig. "Team captains?" He questions more to everyone that anyone in particular.

There's an agreement right away that Kyle should be one captain, and after a lot of unnecessary arguing there's agreement that I'll be the other. Which sucks. I was the one doing the arguing, I wanted to be on Kyle's team damnit! I've barely had a chance to talk to him, let alone greet him the way I've wanted to since we got here. Zanadaci kept me a little later and I ended up arriving when everyone was mostly here, save Token.

I suppose I could have just walked up and kissed the hell out of him in front of the others. God knows that's what I wanted to do the second I saw him in casual shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, but as open as we are about what we are…I'm not the hugest fan of public displays, so I held back and gave him a smile instead. Ugh.

The teams are quickly picked and Kyle and I easily exchange glances to keep Craig and Token on nice opposite teams. But really, either way, it was a doomed game from the start.

Craig is simply unrelenting, and while Token was being pretty good about it, he's fast to get frustrated, annoyed, and then seriously pissed off. It's when Craig more or less aims a pass right at Token's head (as if the ball could go through the guy to be caught by Kyle), is when Token snaps.

He catches the ball which almost smacked him in the head and heaves the ball back at Craig, narrowly missing Craig's own face. "What is your fucking problem!?!" He yells at his best friend. "Don't pretend you didn't fucking _see _me when you hawked the ball at my goddamn face you asshole!"

"Oh for the love of…" I hear Clyde mutter and I feel his pain. I can feel the tension rising too.

"Maybe if you played a little better, you wouldn't be in the direction of my ball all the time!" Craig yells back.

"In the direction?!" Token sputters out. "You're AIMING at me!"

"I'm not aiming at you!"

"Actually," Butters starts to intervene, but Tweek is close by and clamps his mouth shut with his hand.

"Guys," Kyle heads toward them cautiously. "I think-"

"Stay out of this Kyle!" Craig snaps at him, before turning back to Token.

"Hey!" I cry out. "Don't yell at him! It's not his fault you're both acting like a goddamn married couple about to go through one hell of a divorce!"

"Imma go," I hear Thomas mutter, and I can hear the voices of the others not involved agreeing to the same thing.

"I kinda want to watch. This fight has been brewing for years," Craig says as he's quickly dragged away by one of the others.

"Wait, guys," Kyle calls out and sighs when they're mostly far enough away that it assures us all that they don't plan on returning. "Damn, I really wanted to play…" he mutters.

I pat him on the back gently and turn my attention back to Craig and Token who we're fighting the entire time everyone else was leaving. They didn't even seem to bat an eye at my married couple remark.

"What should we do?" Kyle asks, looking back and forth at the bickering friends as they toss insults back and forth between each other. "I don't exactly want to get caught in the crossfire again."

"Me either," I say sullenly. "But they'll go on forever if we let them."

"That's true," Kyle agrees reluctantly.

Just as I decide that I ought to stop them, if for my sanity and Kyle's alone, Token says the right thing to stop their fighting themselves.

"For fucks sake, it wasn't a date okay?!" He says exasperated.

Craig's angry voice instantly halts, and I watch the anger melt slowly from his face. "It wasn't?"

"No!" Token barks, and rubs his forehead in agitation. "Shit," he mutters to himself.

"But then…" Craig says slowly as he tries to piece the whole thing together. "Why did you call it that, I mean, dude you brought her to Cherry Kiss. You originally said you couldn't even come play basketball with us because you had a date with that chick."

Token lets out a short groan, "well technically it was a date, as in two people getting together to do something. She's the daughter of one of my dad's business partners. I had to entertain her for the afternoon, that's all. It was just business, and she knows that too."

Craig's eyes widen slightly and he seems to calm down considerably, "why didn't you just say that?"

"Because it shouldn't make a difference," Token growls out, through clenched teeth. "What I do, and who I do it with should not have to be passed by you first."

Craig's face blanks, and all emotion drops from his face. He studies Token's brown eyes for awhile before looking down at the cement. At this I nudge Kyle and he glances at me curiously before getting the hint. Leaving my side he approaches Craig and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, muttering something to him before nodding his head in my direction for Token's benefit. Steering Craig away I take a deep breath and wait for the two of them to be out of earshot before approaching Token.

He stares at me evenly without saying a word.

"Harsh fight," I state.

"Like Clyde said, it's been brewing for awhile."

"Yeah…and I can't believe I never noticed it before," I say sounding apologetic.

Token shrugs and turns to head toward the little wall that's at the edge of one corner of the basketball court. The wall rises from one corner in an L shape till it reaches about two and a half feet in the air. It's always been used as a pseudo bench for when we took breaks from playing, or for when there were spectators just watching. He plants himself on the wall, while I lean my upper body against it.

Token continues to say nothing. Not that I thought he would. He's always been more of a side character anyway, and I feel like the only reason he's been so talkative as of late was because I've been using him as an ear when Kyle and I weren't getting along.

"…Token?" I ask slowly, cautiously. He darts a look over at me, almost like he's giving me permission to continue. Permission that I take, "I've…been meaning to ask…Kyle has too, there's something we're curious about."

"Oh yeah?" he says in an almost a bored tone. "What's that?"

"It's about you."

"Me?"

"And Craig."

"Me and Craig?"

"Yeah…can you see where I'm going with this?"

"No clue," he says right off the bat, but I can tell he's full of shit. He knows what I want to ask and I'm not going to let him dodge it. I figured I'd go easy on him, ease my way into the questions that have been driving me crazy since I first started paying attention to their relationship. Their relationship, to be blunt, is hard to describe.

"What's up with you two?" I blurt out.

"That's a rather vague question Stan, but nothing's "up" with us. Nothing's changed. Craig just got a little pisser than usual today."

"You're right," I nod. "But that's only because he thought you were on some date. Kyle clued me in on it a bit and when I think about it more, nothing really _has _changed between you two. But it's only because I never paid close enough attention to notice how off the two of you were in general."

He stares at me slightly before he hops down and off the ledge. He shoves his hands in his pocket and looks off into the distance. "Craig has a thing for me," he says shrugging. I blink hard. I didn't think he'd be so open and honest about it as I don't have to clarify what sort of thing he means. I can figure it out. And for someone who briefly beat around the bush about this he sure is blasé in telling me.

"And…you?"

"Just want my best friend," he answers sharply.

My shoulders slump. "Are you posit-"

"I'm positive. I'm not into guys, he's no exception."

"…does he know you know?"

"Yeah, he's the one who told me."

"What? When?!" I ask surprised.

"Years ago, when Kenny was still alive. Apparently Kenny was the one to convince him to tell me even though they both knew I couldn't and wouldn't reciprocate his feelings."

"Kenny?" I breathe out. I feel like the longer he's gone the more I'm realizing how little I might have known about him. The money he was saving, his plans, the relationship between Craig and Token. Was I purposely kept out of the loop, or was I that blind to what my friends were going through?

"Besides," Token says as he kicks a pebble. "Even if I was into him my parents wouldn't have it. And neither would his, it wouldn't work."

"But that doesn't mean-"

"Let it go Stan."

I frown in frustration and I'm not going to let it go. Not yet at least. "Token the way you act around him," he lets out a groan but I keep going. "The way you let _him_ act around you! I thought it was all in good fun for awhile, but the flirting, the jealousy!"

"I guess," he says and throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "That you could say I'm sparing his feelings."

"Sparing his feelings?"

"I'm not that much of an expressive guy to begin with Stan, but I'm even less so with Craig. For one, I don't have to be. He gets me, he can feel my emotions without me having to display them, and second…if I smiled too much at him, laughed at too many of his stupid jokes, elbowed him one too many times…he'd get the wrong impression. He'd start to think that _his _overdramatic tendencies and wanting to be closer to me was working. I don't want him to think that, it would make things worse. And I don't want to lose that guy, you gotta understand that. He's my best friend."

I don't respond.

"Maybe it's a bad way of dealing with it, maybe I just need to tell Craig to get over it and go find someone else instead of pining after me, but…this is the only thing I feel comfortable doing," he shrugs again. "Don't tell him any of that either."

"I won't," I say. We stand together in companionable silence, but more because I can't think of what else to say. I got the information Kyle and I both were after, and I'm not entirely sure how to take it. No wonder Token's so accepting of my relationship with Kyle. If he hated the relationship we had chosen, he wouldn't have bothered with Craig for so many years.

After a long stretch of silence I hear the sound of two pairs of footsteps so I'm not surprised when Craig bounds forward near Token and I.

"Hmm, dead air, what've you two been talking about?" Craig's voice says and both Token and I turn to look at him. He's standing beside Kyle with his hands in his pockets, grinning.

"You," Token says bluntly, but he snorts.

"Good things?" Craig says grinning further and ditching Kyle's side for Tokens.

"What good is there to say with that display you just had?" Token mutters back and I watch as Craig laughs and slaps him on the back before nudging him on his shoulder with his. "And I see you're back to your usual behavior," he adds.

"Yeah," Craig laughs, "Kyle kinda got me to realize I was sorta being a dick. Sorry, dude."

Token snorts, which seems to mean that he's forgiven him.

The two of them start to walk off together, bickering in a friendly manner and I get the idea that Kyle and I are supposed to follow behind them.

"Well?" Kyle asks as he matches my pace. "What did Token say?"

I shake my head, "it's one sided on Craig's part, but Token knows and he's dealing with it the best way he knows how."

"Oh," he glances over at the twosome, and together we watch as Token shoves Craig away for something while berating him on it. Craig's just howling with laughter. "That's kinda sad."

"Yeah," I say as I discreetly slide my hand to wrap around Kyle's. He doesn't flinch and I love that the whole process seems normal to him now, even if it still seem strange to me. "But, they're an odd pair."

"That's true," he says grinning at me. "So then, where are we going now?"

"Dinner I guess," I say shrugging and we start walking to pick up the distance between ourselves and our two friends.

By the time we get home it's late and I'm exhausted. Kyle's no better and we practically fall into our apartment.

Kyle yawns as he peels off his jacket. "How does Token do it?" He mutters as he tosses it on the couch. "Craig just went on, and on, and on," he says referring to our dinner with the two in which Craig did enough talking for the four of us. "Was he like that when we were nine?"

"Nope," I say. "I've no idea why that happened, but it came about sometime in middle school."

"Hm," he says tiredly and yawns again. The second he closes his mouth I can't resist leaning forward and capturing him in a quick kiss. He blinks away his tiredness to look at me in surprise.

"You're damn cute when you yawn," I say in defense. He grins and falls onto my chest and I'm careful about making sure I have a tight grasp around him.

"Why is this so easy?" He mutters into my ear, as he tightens his grip around my neck.

"What do you mean?"

"Us. I still blush like crazy when you say and do the sweetest things, and I'm still a little…uncomfortable at times, but coming home with you…" he sighs and I feel a tingle on my neck from it. "I like things like this, but I'm not sure if we're going too slow…or too fast."

My grip around him tightens, "we're going at the pace that's best for us, that's all." I squeeze him even tighter and take in his scent deeply. "We barely got to talk today," I point out.

"We were helping friends."

"Glad that's over," I laugh lightly and Kyle joins in. I felt at that point that he'd back away, but stays where he is with his arms locked around my neck and his body pushed forward against mine, and his head resting on my shoulder. "How was your day?" I ask lightly and smile as I start to move my hand up and down his back, in hopes that he's melting inside just as I am.

"It was alright," he mutters so lowly that I know I'm getting to him.

"Just alright?" I whisper.

"Mhm, I had to deal with Craig and keeping him away from Token and Claire…Claire's the girl Token had that date with."

"Ah," I say, not really caring about their situation right at the moment.

"And…" he hesitates and I stop my administrations to pull him away from me slightly. He's looking at my chest intently, almost like he's making sure he doesn't meet my eye. "Bebe came in today, with her mom."

I feel an instant strain on my vocal chords, "oh yeah?"

"Yeah…but I didn't get to talk to them though. Lexus distracted them but…Bebe completely ignored me, even when I tried to talk to her."

I rest my hands on his shoulders and look down at the flooring with him, resting my head against his. It sounds almost like he regrets everything, regrets being with me…

"I don't regret it though, I made the decision I wanted to make," he says almost reading and answering the thoughts that barely even had the chance to form. "I chose you and I'm happy with that choice. I'd never change my mind, I just…"

"I know," I say and pull him back into my arms.

He sighs, "but this is nice," he adds quietly.

"Just nice?" I tease.

"It could be better," he murmurs.

"How so?"

"You could shower."

"What?"

"Stan," he pulls away. "You smell horrible."

"I was playing basketball, and you don't exactly smell like a bucket of roses either," I point out.

"Hm, you're right," he says after he not too daintily sniffs his own body.

"Ah!" I force him back in toward me, squeezing him playfully. "To not care about the other's BO! That's the intense power of lo-" The word almost slips out of my mouth, but it's caught before I do so.

I relinquish my hold on Kyle and he steps back without a word. If we had a clock that wasn't digital it'd be the only sound right now. Kyle's staring at me with an expression I can't even begin to read, and I have a feeling I'm display the exact same face.

"I'll…shower first," he says, breaking the silence.

"Okay," I say nodding. "I'll um…do you want some hot chocolate? I can make some."

"…no that's alright, I think I'll just-"

"It'll be from scratch," I add in and he eyes me before nodding.

"Sounds good," he says and quickly turns to disappear into his room, before heading into the bathroom.

At the sound of the shower turning on, I turn my head and aim it out our big picture window that displays everything Colorado is known for. I'd sit down, but I feel a little frozen to my spot on the floor. I almost…but it's too soon for things like that. I don't…I mean realistically it's only been about a week or two.

Running my hands through my hair in frustration I turn to head for the kitchen to start the hot chocolate. I gather the saucepan and whisk, and run over the ingredients in my head. We have them all, including the rum…yet I'm wondering how Kyle managed to get that…

But…I pause as I grab the whisk. I'm not going to think about Kyle in that shower. I shake my head and open the fridge, cupboards and drawers to retrieve milk, cornstarch, sugar, salt, semisweet chocolate, vanilla, the dark rum, and the cream. Setting it all on the counter I slowly get to it, not bothering to finely chop the chocolate as it never makes a difference anyway, and I don't want to be bothered right now.

As I turn on the burner and start whisking the ingredients together minus the vanilla and the rum, my mind starts to wander again without my permission.

Shit.

Did what I almost say freak Kyle out? He seemed to almost bolt for the bathroom, but…it had been an accident. I was just getting caught up in the moment, the moment of being with him, of joking with him. The guy I…the guy I…shit. It's way too soon for things like that. I don't really know him yet. I want to know him more, I can't wait to know him more.

I bite the back of my thumb in agitation. Shit, damn, and motherfucker!

"Stan?" Kyle calls out and he comes around the side toweling his hair dry. I swallow the lump in my throat looking at him. He's in clean clothes, and he smells fresh and clean. His hair was straightened by the water and it reminds me that the Kyle in front of me is already a little different from the one that first came here. His sun kissed skin is long gone to be replaced by a creamy paler complexion, and that straight hair he once had is now a full head of curls. Though he's managed to find some way to style it so that it's not just the bob he used to have.

But right now it's straight, and water droplets are dripping down the side of his face. Making his green eyes all the more alluring…

"Stan?" he questions again and takes a step toward me. He reaches out a hand and it cups my face gently. When he gasps, I turn my face away and look down at the saucepan where his eyes are directed.

I quickly remove the pan from the burner and eye it in slight shock.

"Ugh, we should open a window," I hear Kyle call out and he vanishes to probably do just that. I slowly turn on the fan above the stove and continue to eye the smoldering, smelly burnt hot chocolate.

When he comes back I'm still looking at the saucepan with disbelief. The burner was on low.

"You okay?" he asks carefully and I turn to look at him briefly, before looking back at the mess I made. The mess _I _made.

"Uh, yeah…" I say slowly. "I just…can't remember the last time I ruined something I've made."

"Happens to everyone right?" He smiles at me and I shake my head.

Kyle really wouldn't understand. Maybe that happens to a lot of other people, but it doesn't happen to me. I haven't made a mistake in the kitchen for, fuck, I don't even know how long. As Kyle starts to fish around for something in fridge I cast my eyes on him again. I've never been that distracted before while cooking. I've always been able to leave outside problems outside the kitchen. But if ruining a batch of hot chocolate doesn't prove to me how much I care about Kyle, how much I can't get him out of mind I don't know what will.

-** FG**

**AN:** Why Craig and Token? How can I justify their relationship (not so much in this story, but in general) Well, here's my full proof reason for why they can exist together: They stand near each other a lot in the show. XD

As a random blooper, let me show you what the original few sentences between Stan and Kyle were when they got home:

"_I like things like this, but I'm not sure if we're going too slow…or too fast."_

_My grip around him tightens, "we're going at the pace that's best for us, that's all. So let me know when you want me inside you."_

XD The inner fangirl in me had to at the very least write it out, imagine that entire act, fan herself off, and then remember which story she was writing.

One last thing, I TOTALLY recommend going to deviant art and looking at _Kinky-chichi's_'SP: Beautiful Boys' South Park fanart. I've never plugged fanart that wasn't for my own story, but I seriously recommend looking at that one. I had a (what someone once phrased as a) YAYGASM when I looked it. I'm squealing with happiness right now just thinking about! So yes, read, review, and go view unrelated fanart!

Merry Christmas! (Hey in my time zone it's Christmas for 35 more minutes!)


	40. Stan and Kyle IX

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Stan and Kyle**

**Stan**

I eye the papers that have been passed to me, skimming all the things that make little to no sense. My eyes land on exactly what I'm looking for, the reason Mr. Zanadaci passed the papers in my direction.

I eye the location of where his second restaurant will be built, before looking back up at him and all the private investors sitting at the same conference room we met at a few months back.

"We found the perfect location," one of the investors says grinning. "It'll be on the corner street, far enough away from competition, but close enough to shopping venues for those with heavier paychecks. And you should see the building plans, this new restaurant is going to be _the_ place to be in a few months."

"Exciting isn't it?" Another investor beams.

There's silence from my part, but I start to feel the hard gaze of my boss and I look up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, what do you think Stan? You're the one who's going to be in charge of it," he says.

I don't know what to say. I've only just been informed that Zanadaci's restaurant is a sure thing. That it'll be built in five months and that he wants me to be the one heading it. He realizes that I don't have any experience running a business, but he's told me that he's already hired someone else to take care of that aspect. All I have to do is run the kitchen. Margaret would even be going with me.

It's an extraordinary honor, especially at my age. I'll be one of the youngest in my craft, and in a sense Zanadaci said I might as well think of it as my own. My own restaurant? I hadn't ever imagined it. It hadn't been something that I was looking into. I figured I'd be Zanadaci's head chef for a good few years. I figured he'd hire someone else to head his new location, but he's told me he wouldn't hire someone he hadn't personally worked with before. Someone he didn't personally train.

"Well?" My boss prods me for an answer and I manage a small smile as I think of what to say.

"New York," is all I manage out.

"And not just in any location, but in the hub of the city!" I hear one of the investors proclaim with excitement.

"Yeah," I say slowly. "It's…far," I finish.

Mr. Zanadaci is eyeing me carefully, "and a once in a lifetime chance," he adds. But he doesn't have to tell me that. I know that.

"What…" I pause. "What ever happened to maybe having the restaurant in the Bay Area? Or Chicago?" I rush to add.

"We couldn't find any available locations in Chicago that fit Achilleus' taste. And after careful examination of the demographics and doing quite a bit of research we decided that the San Francisco area wouldn't be the right area for this sort of cuisine to thrive. New York really was the best option," I'm told.

"Oh," I state quietly and allow the others to continue talking about the signing of the lease on the new location and other such legal matters. Meanwhile I turn my eyes back to the papers. I've never lived out of Colorado before, and that aside I'm having mixed emotions, for several reasons.

"You're more than welcome to leave. I will see you at work tomorrow," Mr. Zanadaci mutters discreetly to me, and I peer over at him before nodding.

Eyes glance in my direction as I stand without a word, but talk doesn't cease as I take the folder of papers and leave the conference room. Once outside I pause at the door and take a deep calming breath. Over all the information and thoughts floating through my mind right now, one is overbearingly the focus of those thoughts.

I need to see Kyle.

He's probably at work so instead of wasting time to call him I make my way to my car and head straight for Cherry Kiss. I realize as I near the place that its lunch time because I cant find a close by parking spot. I actually have to park in a nearby drugstore and walk a few blocks to its location. When I get inside it's buzzing with activity, the place is packed and there's a waiting line to be seated.

I've never seen Cherry Kiss like this. Then again I hardly ever come in here. Kyle's extremely easy to pick out with his red hair and his arms full of plates. He's turning in every which direction, handing over plates, taking orders, smiling and laughing with his customers…

I haven't seen him work before. It's kind of exhilarating. He looks like he fits here. Right here, in Colorado…but even that's coming to a close. The thought's been looming in the back of my mind. I'm well aware that we only have two more weeks until our agreement made by Kenny is over and done with. I've been trying to block it out, been trying to focus on the here and now. And it hasn't been difficult with work being busy, and with finals coming up at school, with my growing intense feelings for him…

For the past week we've been pretty good about pretending that I didn't almost drop the L phrase to him. And for awhile there things were awkward, but we pushed it all aside if for nothing more than to move on. I've still being thinking about what I didn't quite say and I know Kyle's been the same. But neither of us really knows how to approach it, so we've just ignored it. Eventually we'll have to address it, whether or not it's comfortable. After all Kyle's really going to be leaving soon.

The whole thing feels surreal. Because he's right there walking around, right in front of me. But soon…soon, he'll be long gone from this atmosphere and no doubt Chef will pick up someone to take his place. I feel weird at the thought, to imagine that he won't be around.

In fact, I really don't want to think about it right now.

"Staney?"

I look up at the sound of Craig and his stupid nickname for me. His own arms are covered in plates and he looks a bit confused. "You…want a table?" He asks curiously.

I glance at the people around me who are giving me glares since they've no doubt been waiting forever for a place to eat. I shake my head quickly, "no I just…I wanted to talk to Kyle but…" I glance over at him. "Maybe I came at a really bad time huh, during the lunch hour rush?"

"Uh…" he looks around himself and plasters on a grin. "Nah it's fine. Why don't you sit tight in the back? Chef won't mind since it's you and I'll send Kyle your way when he's got a free moment."

"Ya sure?" I ask as I stand up slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, and I'll send a sandwich your way too okay?"

I nod at him surprised, "thanks Craig."

"No problem," he winks at me before spinning on his heel and heading for a table.

I'm careful about making my way through the crowd of people to get to the backroom. When I've almost reached the door Kyle suddenly turns and locks eyes with me, seeing me for the first time since I've entered the restaurant.

"Stan. What're you-"

"Oh hey Kyle can you get me a refill of my iced tea?" A customer at the table he was waiting asks him. Kyle turns his attention back to the guy before nodding at him with a smile, but his head is quick to look back at me.

I nod my head in the direction of the backroom. "I'll be in back, you just…do your thing."

His eyes narrow at me in suspicion but he nods and returns back to his duties while I slink into the back. I almost bump into Chef once I'm inside and he gives me a startled look.

"Craig said you wouldn't mind if I waited for Kyle back here?"

I watch him relax and he pats me on the shoulder, "sure thing, but it might be awhile."

And he's right. Craig eventually does drop off a sandwich for me, but it's not until two hours tick by before Kyle finally walks into the back. He grins at me as he falls into a chair with a tired sigh. "Despite the state I might be in, I love rush time the best," he says.

"You look great to me, as always," I say without much thought. His cheeks redden slightly, but he says nothing concerning them.

"So, what's up that couldn't wait until I got home? The look on your face has me slightly freaked out…your boss didn't fire you did he?" He questions looking suddenly worried.

"No," I shake my head. "Nothing like that…in fact, it's more of the exact opposite."

"Oh yeah?" He tilts his head slightly in confusion.

"Yeah…he's, well you know about how he was thinking of opening a second restaurant?"

"Yeah sure."

"It's…already in motion. It's gonna be in New York and the place is all picked out and it should be open in about five months."

"Really?! Wow and in New York! That's amazing, he must be excited!" Kyle's grinning at me and I can only nod.

"He is since he's wanted this for awhile. Anyway Zanadaci…wants me to head it."

"Are you serious?! At your age?!"

"My thoughts too," I say and chuckle lightly. "But he said he wouldn't really have anyone else do it."

"Oh my God, that's like…that's like your own fucking restaurant and you're not even twenty!"

"I know," I say not being able to keep the grin from forming on my face.

"How's that going to work though, with you here in Colorado?"

With that one question I fall quiet and the worry that had left Kyle's face as I told him the news about the New York location returns.

"I'd move there," I tell him bluntly, not beating around the bush which looking at his expression, maybe I should have been a bit gentler with the way I told him.

A realization suddenly pops on his face and I watch him grip the chair he's sitting on. "I leave in two weeks," he says.

I nod.

"To go back to California."

I nod again.

"That means I'll be on the west coast," he says quietly. "And you'll be on the east."

I nod once more.

"Oh," he breathes out slowly. "Oh," he repeats again. He starts to rub one of his eyes, like he's suddenly exhausted. When he stands up, almost pushing the chair away I almost jump. "I've gotta get back to work, um…I'll see you at home though."

"Kyle-"

"I'll see you at home," he cuts me off and leans in to give me a short kiss before he reaches his hands through his hair, somehow managing to miss all the snags. Without another word toward me he rushes back onto the floor leaving me sitting on this hard wooden chair.

After sitting alone for awhile I stand slowly, realizing that I'll have to leave Chef's backroom eventually. Once I'm back on the main floor my eyes automatically turn to Kyle who's laughing cheerily with a table filled with girls I remember from middle school. He doesn't even glance at me as I brush by him and leave Cherry Kiss, though I do catch Craig's furrowed eyebrows.

Outside I stuff my hands in my pockets as I walk slowly to my car. From the look on Kyle's face as I told him it occurs to me that he had completely forgotten about the agreement. That his entire reason for being in South Park was for the agreement and the agreement alone. I could tell from watching him that he hadn't realized that things would change from their current situation.

He'd forgotten all about going home.

I can visualize his thoughts as he eventually thinks over what I told him. He had questioned being anything other than friends with me because we wouldn't be able to be together for too long. But at least then Kyle would only end up being a few states away. If I take this position in New York he'll practically be an entire country away and I don't know if I can take that. I don't know if he can either.

I make a move to side step a person who's in my way, stopping when something catches the attention of my sense of smell. It smells just like the perfume Bebe always used…I glance up and see her looking at me carefully.

"Bebe," I say her name unnecessarily and I notice that her eyes are on Kyle's workplace. "Were you going to go see Kyle?"

"I was just going to be passing by," she says in a matter of fact tone.

I nod silently and before either of us can say another word or make another move I hear the sound of someone pushing open Cherry Kiss' door, and I hear Kyle call out my name. "Wait, Sta-Bebe?"

**Kyle**

Why is it that when you solve one problem, something else pops up?

Stan and I were just falling back into a routine, we were only just getting used to being together. I was only just getting used to the thought that he might just possibly love me, and that maybe... But then he had to show up and remind me that our routine was coming to a close. Then he had to go and tell me that not only would it end, but that he'd be farther away from me than before we first started. I mean…New York?

I'm having trouble just processing that I'm going back to California soon, I'd forgotten all about my real place of residency. Never mind the idea of him being so far away from me. It's a good opportunity for him, I know that, but…

"Chef?" I suddenly turn away from the customers I'm servicing. He looks up from his position behind the register. "Do you mind if I take the rest of the day off?"

He blinks at me surprised, but his eyes wander over to the door Stan just left through. He gives me an exasperated look, but nods with a smile. "Only because I've only got you for a couple more weeks. I was going to ask you about that two weeks notice."

My face must be grim, but I give him an appreciative look before I stuff my notepad and pen into my back pocket and take off for the front door. Not bothering to clock out, or remove my black Cherry Kiss apron. Stan couldn't have gotten too far as he only just left a second or two ago. As I glance out the window I see a trail of his black hair and quickly rush out.

"Wait, Sta-Bebe?"

I change the direction of my sentence when I see the two of them together, eyes looking at me.

"Uh," I say, not knowing what else to say as I slow things down a little and approach them.

"I thought you had work," Stan says after a looming silence between the three of us.

"Yeah, Chef let me take the rest of the day off so that I could…" I trail off and shake my head. "Bebe were you coming to see me?"

She blinks and I watch a frown form on her small lips, "no, I was just passing by. Something I intend to continue with," she moves to side step both Stan and I, but in wake of everything Stan just told me and reminded me of I don't let her. I grab her arm and the look she gives me when she turns back almost makes me cringe, at the very least I release her from my grip.

"I think we should talk," I tell her gently.

"I don't know of anything left to talk about," as she says this her eyes dart to Stan. "Eventually you need to come by and get the rest of your things. I'm moving out from that apartment. I'll be living with Heidi for awhile."

Stan looks surprised, as am I, but he nods still not saying anything to her.

I'm starting to get a headache. There's so much I still want to say to Bebe. I still consider her my best friend, but at the moment I know she wants nothing more than to be far away from me. She already looks prepared to bolt and I can't blame her. But too many things are left unsaid. I want to know about her moving in with Heidi, I want to know how she's been, if she knows I'm leaving in two weeks…if she even cares. I need to say _something_. But nothing comes out. I just stand here, gaping at her and eventually her eyes dart back to me. They're swimming with emotion, with things even _she _wants to say. But like me, she doesn't. Rather, she takes a step back before closing her eyes briefly. I watch her take in a deep slow breath, and then her eyes open back up and she begins to walk past me.

Feeling the weight in my chest that never really went away from choosing Stan over her, I start to remind myself that I love the path I chose. I honestly do. If given the chance to do it all over, I'd make the same decision. As I'm replaying that in my head I realize she's stopped right beside me. She turns her head slowly to me and leans in carefully, keeping her eyes straight ahead in the opposite direction mine are facing.

"Stop worrying over what you did to me. There are more important things to think about," she says so quietly I barely hear her, and I realize it's to ensure that Stan, who is only a foot or so away from both of us, can't hear. "Like how our idiot is head over heels for you. But no…not_our_, _your_."

I feel a thump in my chest and I tighten my fist to force my face to stay neutral.

"Bebe I-" I start to mutter but she cuts me off.

"Maybe…in a year or two, look me up. You have my number, I won't change it. Bye Kyle," she finishes and steps away from me. I turn around to watch her retreating back feeling the hope swell inside me.

Stan takes the spot next to me and from my side vision I see he's watching Bebe leave too. "Anything I should know?" He questions.

"She hasn't forgiven me," I state the obvious. "But she's going to try," I turn to fully face him with a smile. "I just need to give her a couple years."

"And that's okay with you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, you don't…I'm glad things…quasi worked out for you and her."

"Yeah," I say softly, thinking on Bebe's last words. "Me too."

"Kyle?"

"Huh?"

"Since you're off work, you want to go somewhere? My car's down the block."

"Sure," I reply without hesitation and together we head for his car. My mind is beginning to reel about why I'm even around right now rather than working. It reminds me that Stan should be working too, and I wonder if he left just to tell me his news about New York.

When we get to his car we climb in and he heads out onto the main street, keeping his eyes straight on the road. The little conversation that we have is really nothing more than inane chatter. We're not talking about anything that's really on either of our minds. It's on stuff like the weather, and Craig and Token, and how the Nuggets ended up going to the final game but got crushed. Though, at a point in our meaningless talking, while I'm talking about why I don't like mushrooms, Stan's right hand drops from the wheel and reaches over to grab a hold of my left. He grips it slightly before relaxing the pressure. When I look over at him I smile because he's blushing and refusing to meet my eye.

"Just where exactly are we going?" I ask after awhile, peering outside his car and watching the little sign that says 'South Park' fall behind us. We head over a short wooden bridge and that's when Stan pulls his car over to the side. As he releases my hand and climbs out, I look out the window completely unimpressed with our surroundings. There's nothing here. The mountains are up ahead, to the left and right, and the town is visibly behind us.

When Stan opens my door for me I glance up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Come on." All of a sudden the dreary mood that encased him is gone and he's grinning.

I step out slowly looking around until I hear the quiet squish of my feet hitting the ground. I cringe as I look at them in contact with soft mud. "Guess I should have worn different shoes," I mutter and stand up trying not to envision the thought of my Marc Jacobs being ruined.

"What shoes? They're all too nice for this place," Stan says as he walks off.

"Good point," I mutter again and close the door behind me. I watch as Stan hops down from the shoulder toward a small bank. He turns back around and seeing me approach the edge he holds his arms up and I question his sanity. "What?" I ask confused.

"Jump, I'll catch you."

Is he kidding me? What the hell has gotten into him?

"I think I'll be fine," I snort and try to take small steps down the bank. But I'm only wearing rubber boots, and they have zero traction so it's not entirely surprising that I lose my footing and go flailing down the side of the shoulder landing not too comfortably in the muck beneath me on my hands and knees. "Ugh…" I groan out. My head sharply looks up when I hear Stan crack with laughter. "You fucker, I thought you were going to fucking catch me!" I growl at him and yank my arm away as he tries to help me up.

"You said you'd be fine," he points out.

"Asshole," I murmur and stand myself up to assess the damage.

"But you're not hurt right?" He questions, and I hear the concern but I'm still a little miffed he just let me fall and get covered in side-of-the-road- goo.

"If I am it's your own damn fault," I tell him sharply as I feel my limbs. I think I'm fine. The only thing hurt is my ego and my Lacoste clothes. "Damn it, I love this outfit too…"

"Here," Stan says and I look up at him. "He's peeling off his jacket and pulls off his sweatshirt over his head. He tosses the sweatshirt to me before zipping his jacket back up. No wonder seeing as how he only had a thin white t-shirt under his sweatshirt. "To wipe off your hands," he tells me when I give him a confused look.

"Oh," I glance at the grey sweatshirt. It's one of his South Park High ones, a football one. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I've got like ten more."

"Well okay," I say and wipe the mud just from my hands rather than my entire body. It does make me feel a little better. My clothes are a lost cause and there's no point in ruining Stan's sweatshirt more than necessary. When I've cleaned myself up as much as I can given the situation I toss the sweatshirt back up the bank so we'll remember to take it home on our way back up.

Turning back to face Stan I see he's waiting patiently for me. Catching up with him, he nods his head in the direction of the small area under the wooden bridge we crossed to get here.

"So where are we?" I ask after we've made our way under. There's not too much to observe. The place is wet and muddy. I can see traces of magazines, cigarette butts, and empty beer cans and bottles strewn about. It looks like people have been throwing their shit over the bridge and it all collected here. Though there are two small stools forced into the muddy ground against the edge of where the bridge rises up.

"This," Stan says looking around. "Was our place, Kenny and mine that is. It's where we had all our firsts. Cigarettes, beer, porn…the occasional recreational drug. It was all here."

He takes a few steps away from me and I notice his eyes glass over, as if he's remembering the exact things he just told me. "I'd sit here," he continues, pointing to a spot. "And Ken, he'd sit over there…I haven't been here since his funeral," he mutters the last part.

I have no idea what I should say. This isn't what I was expecting when he said he wanted to go somewhere.

Stan looks over at me and I think he realizes that I'm at a loss for words. He smiles and makes his way back over to my side. "I don't expect you to say anything; I just wanted to show you. Zanadaci's announcement of the New York location made me remember that you were leaving soon, which in turn made me realize that I hadn't really shown you anything the entire time you've been here. I mean, yeah you've seen South Park, but you haven't seen it in from the point of view Kenny and I used. We had a lot of special places that were just for the two of us. Places no one else knew we went and this is one of them. Our favorite one. I just wanted to show you," he repeats quietly.

Nodding I glance over at the small stools. "What were those used for?"

He turns to look at them before shrugging, "those weren't ours, so I guess someone else found this spot. Which is fine, I don't need it anymore." He walks over to the stools and eyes them carefully before planting himself down on one. "You know what?"

"Hm?" I ask as I walk over to take the other stool. Normally I'd eye the mud covering it with a bit of disgust, but seeing as how I'm already covered in mud there's really no point. I sit down at look at the guy across from me.

"I should take you to all of me and Kenny's haunts. Our favorite restaurant, where he worked…it was at this seedy bar that I totally hated, but well only if you want to."

I smile at him, "sure." If he's willing to show me I'll go. He's right when he's said that he hasn't shown me around. Since the beginning I sort of fended for myself, and I asked as few questions as possible when it came to what he and Kenny did in their free time. Now with the days sorta closing in on us I'm happy thinking he doesn't want me to leave here without having a connection with Kenny as well. Even if it's just seeing things through Stan's eyes and trying to envision him and Kenny at these places, it's better than nothing. That way, in a sense, I can be linked to the boy I barely knew but who gave me so much.

Stan and I talk for awhile and it's different than usual, because he's talking more about himself and I'm talking more about myself. We really still don't know that much about each other, at least our older selves. By the time we decide to head back I realize that we didn't once touch on Stan's promotion waiting for him in New York.

"Oh," he says as he's helping me back up the bank so we can head back home. "We should mail your brother that snow within the next few days before you forget completely."

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. He's probably been cursing my name for months now," I laugh at the thought as Stan pulls me up. "That's just one more thing added to the list of why I don't want to go home."

Once I'm steady on my feet I falter slightly when Stan steps closer toward me wrapping both his arms around my waist and kissing me soundly without hesitation. I widen my eyes in brief surprise before feeling them flutter shut. He moves one of his hands from my waist to rest on the back of my neck, making the contact slightly more bruising. A groan erupts in the air and at this point I'm not sure who it's from. I never do know who it's from. When Stan's tongue darts out teasing the more sensitive parts of my mouth it sends a thrilling jolt down my spine. He pulls away slightly to aim his almost feral kisses to my check and neck before returning to my lips.

"Mhm, Kyle," he mutters into my mouth just as the hand on my waist starts to snake its way up the back of my jacket and shirt.

I'm about ready to go completely limp in his embrace when the sound of honking jolts us away from each other and we watch as a car drives by with a bunch of teenagers hooting and hollering at us. The sudden awakening back into reality reminds me that we're standing on the side of the road in broad daylight.

"Fuck, I should have had my way with you on those damn stools," he mutters and my jaw almost drops as does his when he realizes he said that out loud. But the only thing that makes me do is laugh, knowing my cheeks are their usual shade of embarrassment. Leaning down to grab the sweatshirt I had thrown up here earlier, I grab a hold of one of his arms with both of mine and drag him to his car.

"Let's go, I think we've given the public their fair share of two hot guys kissing."

"You think I'm hot?" Stan says somewhat breathlessly and I glance over at him, rolling my eyes. "Everyone thinks you're attractive, I've got my work cut out for me you know."

I'm surprised when our positions change, and I'm the one being dragged toward his car. He opens the passenger door and more or less tosses me inside before connecting our lips again as he buckles me in. "Same thing goes for you," he mutters.

"I did say _two _hot guys," I point out and as he pulls away he laughs and closes my door before walking to the driver's side.

"You did," he agrees as he shuts his door and starts the car to head back to South Park. I settle comfortably in my seat knowing I care about Stan that much more since he didn't once complain about the mud that's now half covering him.

-

The only time two weeks goes by fast is when you'd rather it not. We tried to keep things the same, and we tried not to dwell, tried not to think of a countdown. But Mr. Zanadaci was calling about last minute paperwork and loose ends. The place we rented the furniture from was calling about pick ups and when it'd be best to arrive. The former Raisins were more quiet than usual…it was impossible to escape. Stan made me that chicken noodle soup he promised from months back, and now I see what he means. Every little thing was made from scratch, including the noodles.

"I'm trying to decide if I'll miss you or your cooking more," I had joked, but he hadn't laughed and after saying that I realized it wasn't funny either.

Of the four and a half months needed to complete the agreement Stan and I signed to obtain Kenny's belongings, we only have to live through a couple more days together. My flight has been booked since the day I first decided to stay here, and up until now it's seemed like we had years left to live together.

"Stan! You're gonna be late for class again!" I yell out from the dining room. We may only have a couple days left, but I've pushed Stan into agreeing not to take time off work or school for my sake. I'm finding it imperative that things don't change in our small amount of time left here. It helps me to not think things will be different. That soon Stan will be waking up in this empty apartment and coming home to this empty apartment. He's decided to stay here since he doesn't really have any other place to go. Besides, "all my shit's already here," he said when he told me he'd be staying.

I don't know how he's going to manage. I wouldn't be able to stay here thinking over all our times together. It'd be hell for me. And as much as he's trying to hide it, it's going to be hell on him too. The way he's been looking as of late…he hasn't looked like that since I first came here and he was still grieving over Kenny. Everything about him is a mess. His hair, his skin, the bags under his eyes. I know it's become impossible for him to sleep with our countdown constantly ticking in his head. But I've been trying to stay normal. We can't both be on the verge of a meltdown, one of us has to be strong and I'm reminded more often than not that it's almost always going to have to be me.

Damnit. Stan is going to be really late if he doesn't haul himself out of the bathroom. Abandoning my breakfast I knock on the bathroom door. "Stan! Jesus Christ, you're acting like you're me. What's taking you so long? Besides I need to go to the bath-"

I stop mid sentence as I open the door.

"…room," I finish lamely. "Fuck, don't do this." I whisper watching as he shudders with pleasure at the feel of my hands resting on either side of his cheeks. "Stan?" I question, this time sounding slightly more concerned.

Without a word he takes the additional step needed and wraps his arms around my shoulders, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck, holding me tightly. It's as if he's refusing to think that for one second he won't get to do this soon.

"What…what's the matter. What's going on?" I ask puzzled. He's freaking me out.

"Nothing," he mutters quietly. "Can't I hug you?" He asks, trying to sound defensive.

"But you're not hugging me," I say and I pry out of his grasp. "You're _crushing_me, so what's up?" My eyes are searching his and to stop me from doing so he looks down at the tiled bathroom floor.

He mutters a response, but it's so quiet and vague I don't hear him.

"What did you say?" I question in slight frustration. "Come on, jeez, look at me okay?"

He does so and I nod my head.

"Good. Now are you going to tell me why you look like shit so early in the morning?"

"It's our last Monday…that's all," he practically whispers.

"Our last Monday? Stan…you can't think of it like that."

We stand in silence for a long time. He doesn't move, and neither do I. We'd probably stand there all day if we could have, but I regain my sense of purpose and take in a deep breath while shaking my head. As if to shake off all the depressing emotions we're both pouring out.

"Well it is Monday, which means you need to get to school and I need to get to work, so," I push him back further into the bathroom and lean toward the bathtub starting up the water. "You need to get ready so I can after you."

I feel Stan watch me as I adjust the temperature of the water and as I pull up the knob to start to the shower. Turning back to him I look at him expectantly. "Don't dawdle for too long, you're already going to be late. I can just imagine that your professor of your first class is ready to fail you for as often as you show up late, that is, _when _you show up."

I side step him to head for the door but before I reach it he manages to grab a hold of my elbow. I glance over at him raise my eyebrows in question.

"Take it with me," he says.

"Take what with you?"

"My shower."

I can feel the heat rise in my face and I wonder if my ears are starting to turn a little pink as well. Maybe it's because of the increasing heat from the hot shower running, but I don't think so. It's so easy to make me blush. I hate that about myself.

"It'll be faster if we take one together," he tells me and I frown.

"Somehow I'm willing to bet that us showering at the same time would be more counterproductive than anything."

He tightens his grip on my elbow and gives me a weak smile.

I flush again and yank my elbow away as I turn to face the door to close it. "Don't watch as I undress," I mutter, still not facing him.

I'm glad that he finds no reason to point out that he'll be seeing me without clothing soon anyway.

**-FG**

**AN:**…alright so I'm a no good dirty rotten liar. :P I TRIED to end things this chapter but stuff just kept popping up. So, okay, the NEXT chapter is the last chapter with the boys! Not that you all are complaining, I'm sure. :) If I didn't have this chapter it would have been way too much scene jumping than I'm comfortable with so, here, you get one extra chapter!


	41. X

**AN: **It's not an ending I'm completely happy with, and it feels rushed to an extent. But this was the hardest chapter for me to write. I had to decide what to gloss over and what to include. In the end, I think it sounds like everything is glossed over. Ahaha, I guess I got tired of writing such detail. Wears a person thin really, anyway enjoy the last chapter of Part III!

Short Stories with Tragic Endings

**Kyle and Stan**

**Kyle**

"Hugo, Jacobs, Pliner, Kenneth C., Frye, Guess…hmm," I mutter thoughtfully as I look around my room. Most things are in boxes save a few essentials. It was only yesterday that it occurred to both Stan and I that I hadn't packed a damn thing. Its not too surprising though. We've spent the last few days rarely being out of each others presence. Not to say that we've lost our…gay v-card or whatever, it's been more about spending time with each other. Trying to soak it all up.

Stan still hasn't expanded on his promotion and with me leaving tomorrow I feel like I'm going to have to force it out of him. I do want him to take it as it'd be stupid of him not too. I cant imagine he'll ever get the chance like this again. Yet, if he takes it and ends up living in New York…

"Dude, what are you doing in here?" Stan asks as he walks into my room eyeing me as I eye my boxes. "Are you ready to go or what?"

"Yeah, I just…" I concentrate on my wide selection of shoes. "I can't find the snow boots you gave me for Christmas."

Stan snorts before approaching closer and kissing my neck, "Are you sure they didn't just "disappear"?" He asks leaning back and smiling at me.

"I didn't throw them away if that's what you're implying," I frown. "I have worn them you know. Yeah they're not very _in_…anywhere, but they're practical and all that."

He laughs, "I know you wear them. I've seen the scuff marks."

I nod my head firmly, "and it's more than I can say about the Christmas gift I gave you. Have you ever even put them on your face?"

"Ahhh, no. I'm waiting for the perfect day is all."

"Right," I sigh. "Well never mind it. I guess the whole rugged mountain look suits you."

"Just like the whole suave brand name look suits you."

We study each other for a careful second before Stan bends and smirks as he reaches down to grab my hand. "Come on, we're late for your going away party."

"I didn't even want a party," I mutter, allowing myself to be pulled along. "Craig did."

"Well he does like any excuse to get good and drunk. Speaking of which if he comes anywhere near you he's dead."

"Likewise," I grin. "Maybe we should shove him in Token's direction."

"Sure, if you want to lose Token's friendship that is."

"Good point," I respond laughing as we leave the apartment.

By the time we arrive it seems like we're probably the last ones. It's almost like déjà vu too. The outside of Craig's place looks just like the time when we were at the Marsh's last and Stan and Bebe announced to their small world that they were over. That seems just like yesterday…so why am I going home so soon?

"Isn't it too cold for a barbeque?" I ask Stan as I shove my hands in my pockets and walk up the steps of Craig's house. I can smell the scent of barbequed meat wafting in the air and its coming from the house directly in front of us.

"Dude, its never going to get much warmer while you're here. Besides its not so much about the barbeque as it is…hanging out with everyone for your last time. And apparently Craig's got this incredible steak sauce recipe that I just _have _to make for everyone. Since it was steak sauce he opted to go with the whole outdoor meat thing."

"Yo Kyle! Stan!" We look over and see Token as he opens Craig's front door grinning. "'Bout time, the games about to start and," he looks pointedly at Stan. "Everyone's hungry."

"Yeah, yeah," Stan responds simply. Token and I watch as he brushes by him into the house, grabbing the drink in Token's hand on the way as he heads for the kitchen. He calls out some distracted greeting to those in the living room as he does so. Following suit I give Token a smile and slip past him. Rather than head for the kitchen, I make my way toward the living room where I can visibly see Clyde, Butters, Tweek, Chef, and the ex Raisins Girls.

"Do you think he's mad that we're making him cook?" Token asks me.

"Hm," I glance in the direction Stan disappeared toward. "Nah, he knows I want to spend some time with you guys." My eyes drift toward the television that's playing. While most people are talking amongst themselves, I can tell everyone appreciates the background noise of the TV. "So what are we watching?" I ask to change the subject from cooking and Stan.

"It's the A's vs. the Red Sox, so who can I place your bet for?" he asks slyly.

"We're betting huh? Then the A's of course," I grin back. "I have to cheer for the state I live in at least."

"I respect that, how much?"

"Twenty."

"Awesome. Craig!" Token shouts turning his head toward the hallway.

"What?" Craig pokes his head out irritably for some reason. "Ah, Kyle! I didn't know you were here! Is Staney around?"

"Don't call me Staney you stupid fucker!" We hear Stan yell exasperated from the kitchen.

"Kitchen," I say smiling.

"Craig, put Kyle down for twenty on the A's," Token interjects.

"The A's?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"They're a California team, I'm a Californian. It's my duty as a citizen."

Craig shrugs, "your money, but I'll put you down." He pulls out a notepad from his back pocket and I watch him scribble my name down and the amount alongside a bunch of other names. When he looks back up at me I hand him my money.

"There should be some law against making the guy of honor hand over cash," I say, but inside I'm laughing.

"But you're amongst friends," Craig says and slips his notepad away. "And in any case, don't remind me that this might be the last time I ever see you."

It's one sentence but its enough to completely put a damper on the mood. It would seem that everyone took that exact moment to halt their conversation. As if the TV even took that same second to blank out and go on commercial. Someone flicks it off and like that all eyes are on me.

"Guys," I manage out slowly looking around at all the faces that have made my stay here so memorable. The guys, especially Craig and Token that filled that void in having a group of close male friends. Chef, for taking me as his first waiter, for teaching the ropes, and forcing me to get used to being hit on. In fact, to embrace it and aim for better tips. And of course the ex Raisins Girls. They're the only girls in the room and they stand out like sore thumbs. Not just because of their gender but because of their looks, the way they carry themselves, and the way they're not trying to hide how upset they are.

"Hey Craig don't you have any thyme…" Stan's voice trails off as he reenters the living room. He pauses and looks around. I throw my head over in his direction, giving him a very weak smile. "What's going on?" he asks slowly.

"Craig just reminded us all that we weren't all gathered here for a simple get together," Token says dryly as he folds his arms over his chest. "He just reminded us that this might be the last time we lay eyes on Kyle."

"Oh cutie…" I hear one of the girls mutter softly.

There's a loud frustrated sigh and Stan takes a few steps closer into the group, stopping beside me. "You're all wrong, Kyle's going to be back. You'll be seeing a lot more of him. Just because he's going back to school doesn't mean he'll never set foot in Colorado again."

"That's what you said when we were nine," Butters chimes up and I cringe at the thought while watching Clyde jab him in the elbow.

"Yeah well, this time is different." He looks down at me, "this time he's got a good solid reason to come back here indefinitely."

Indefinitely? I don't like the way he said that, but I nod my head in agreement.

"Of course I'll be back. I'm not a little kid anymore who needs his parents permission. I can make my own way back here, and occasionally you'll all have to come to California too." I glance over at the girls. "I'll take you girls on the best shopping trip you'll ever have." They look considerably happier at the thought of that, and slowly the tired sad faces starts to leave and everyone slowly goes back to their previous conversations.

I release a sigh of relief before glaring at Craig who doesn't even bother to look sheepish. He shrugs, "I didn't mean to bring that up, but…you're leaving tomorrow Kyle and I've gotta work all day."

"So do I," Token speaks up. He clamps a hand down on my shoulder and tightens his grip slightly. "You're not gone yet, but I already miss you man."

Biting the inside of my cheek I force myself to give both Token and Craig an easy smile. "I'll miss you guys too, but its not like I'm moving out of the country. I'll just be a few states away. No big deal really."

"Even so," Token releases me, "it won't be the same. I've kinda gotten used to you."

"Me too," Craig nods.

"So've I," Stan mutters in my ear. It sends a tingle down my body and I close my eyes for a second before regaining my footing.

I give a fake laugh and slide away from Stan to head for some of the others. I'd like to talk more with them, especially Chef and the girls. "Feelings mutual guys, but the party just started so let's not get into the heart felt goodbyes just yet alright?"

I don't give any of them the chance to answer before I approach Chef who's having some sort of conversation with Clyde. I try to shake off the feeling of being watched, but I know Stan, Token, and Craig are watching me. No doubt talking about me too. It's not that it annoys me, it doesn't, but I haven't left _yet_. I just got here in fact!

This is why I didn't want a party. I would have rather just said my quiet goodbyes to everyone. I already gave one to Stan's parents, and to the regulars I'd go as far as to call acquaintances at Cherry Kiss. Now I'm left with the people I spent the most time with while I was here. The ones that made me laugh the hardest, made me feel the most comfortable. The ones who embraced me for who I was right off the bat, and not what I had become. These are the people I don't want to say goodbye to.

Eventually I fall into conversation with those around me and it all goes smoothly. No one talks about my leaving. Rather we just talk. Like friends. We tease each other, make fun of each other and question each other. The only thing that's really weird about this is that my four closest friends aren't talking to me at all.

Naturally Stan's in the kitchen cooking, but Craig, Token, and even Mercedes are with him. I get the need to keep the cook company but…

When people start to mutter that they're getting hungry, food magically appears. Or more precisely Mercedes and Token start to bring out plates of the stuff, leaving it on every available flat surface minus the floor. Plates, napkins, and utensils are given out and conversation and laughter continues as if it hadn't been interrupted.

As I start to agree with Lexus that designer's initials shouldn't be on purses, I realize Token and Mercedes have drifted back into the kitchen where I assume Craig and Stan must still be. Why the hell aren't they out here with everyone else?! I thought this was a party for _me_?!

Easing Tweek into the side talk I was having with Lexus, I make a discreet exit to see why my four closest have decided to stay nice and far from me. Slipping into the kitchen I'm surprised to see that they're not there. The only thing in the kitchen is extra plates of food and drinks, as well as the dirty dishes.

Before confusion starts to set in I hear the distinct sound of Craig's laugh. I quietly make my way to toward the sound noticing it must be coming from the sliding glass door that leaves from the kitchen and into the backyard. There's a fitted curtain on the door so they cant seem me, but upon pulling it back slightly with my free hand I see the four of them situated on the porch. Mercedes is sitting next to Token on the ledge of a short gate, while Stan is leaning against the house and Craig is seated on a porch chaise lounge chair.

All their backs are to me and their not looking at each other. Rather their eyes seem to be over the extensive garden that is Craig's backyard. They had stopped talking after Craig laughed briefly, but now their conversation is picking back up again and as the door is cracked open I can hear every word.

"I never told you guys this," Stan starts out. "But in the earlier months when Kyle and I weren't getting along we had this black vase. Kyle picked it out, it was his crack way of compromising since I wanted black furniture and he didn't. Anyway, at one point I got so mad at him over, I don't even remember what…I think from him saying he was going to break the agreement. Anyway, I got so mad I just knocked the thing over and you should have seen his face when he saw what I did. He looked like he was going to strangle me. It wasn't funny then, but thinking over it now…it cracks me up," he laughs and I smile slightly remembering that same incident. It really _wasn't _funny at the time. We still have yet to pay the bill on that damn vase.

"I can see Kyle's face," Craig adds.

"Really? I don't think I've ever seen him mad," Mercedes says thoughtfully. "But oh!" She giggles softly before continuing. "I remember this one time when Red was waiting on this really cute guy…who I'm sure was, you know, and the guy was hitting on him relentlessly! Anyway, his face got so red! It was adorable! And he ran into the backroom. He blushes so easily! It's horribly endearing!" She sighs and I feel myself flush. "You're so lucky Stan, that you get that cutie all to yourself."

Stan doesn't say anything to that, and I don't dare look at him and there's silence from the four of them before Token speaks up first this time.

"Do you remember Craig, on New Years when he got so drunk, well…I guess we were all drunk, but he was talking a mile a minute about you Stan. Basically how you were an unforgiving ass…that evening was a complete foreshadow of what was to come."

"It was not," I hear Stan mutter. "And please, don't remind me of that night," he says I and see as his head turns toward Craig.

"Hey now, I was drunk!" Craig says in his defense.

"You're always "drunk"," Token, Stan, and Mercedes say together, amusement dancing in all their voices.

"Hmph, well I remember when Kyle was telling me how you got him to stick around in South Park Stan, that all you had to do was _ask. _I about howled with laughter."

Stan grumbles something I can't hear, but after Craig says that it occurs to me what they're all doing out here. They're talking about me yes, but they're sharing memories they had with me. As if I'm…

I push aside the glass door forcefully and four pairs of eyes turn to look at me in surprise. I glare at each one of them. "Stop talking like that. I'm not dead, nor am I dying. I'm still here!"

Stan straightens and reaches over to grab a hold of me, but I yank my hand away. He gives me a look before he tries again and this time I let him. I even let him draw me in a hug with my back toward him as I divert my eyes to the side.

"We weren't talking like you were dying. We're just…we're gonna miss you, you know that. And this is our way of dealing with it. Ky, we know you're not gone yet, but you are leaving tomorrow." He hugs me tighter and I slump against him.

"Maybe I won't go back," I mumble half heartedly.

"Yes you will," he answers and releases me.

"Ohh, my turn!" Mercedes suddenly says and bounds in between Stan and I, hugging onto me for dear life. "My gosh I'll miss you so much. You were one of the best things that's ever happened to this town. I don't even want to think about not seeing your sweet face when I go into Cherry Kiss. Now all I'll see is that Craig's rat nest hair!"

"I'm right here!" I hear Craig argue and as Mercedes pulls away from me to inform him that she's aware that he's right there Token approaches me with a calculating look.

"You certainly made an impression while you were here, I'll give you that much. I'll miss you too, but I'll be in the Bay Area in a month or so for business. We'll have to hook up."

"Definitely!" I grin at the idea of seeing Token in my element. I take an additional step forward to give Token the most…manly hug I can muster. He's never seemed like the type of guy to be ecstatic at the idea of public displays, with males or females. So, its surprising when he falls into the hug more and clutches me a little tighter than I would have expected.

"Token!" His name is yelled out venomously by both Stan and Craig and with a roll of his eyes he pulls away. Apparently I'm not wrong in my assumption that Token rarely shows anyone any form of physical affection.

"You two are ridiculous," he says in irritation as he places himself back onto the ledge besides Mercedes.

"Well you did just say you'd be in California in a bit…don't see the reason for the death hug," Craig mutters as he places himself in front of me. He squints carefully and I lean back trying to anticipate what sort of goodbye I'd get from him. But I cant really, Craig has the tendency to be predictable, but he has just as much of a tendency to be the exact opposite.

"Things'll be a lot less entertaining with you gone," he starts softly. "It was awesome working with you and,-" he pauses to hug me gently. "Thanks for what you and Staney did with Token n' me. I appreciate you guys butting yourselves into my business."

"But we didn't do anything," I point out.

"You did, trust me. You guys did. I'll miss you lots Kyle seeing as how we got really close while you were here. More so than we ever did as kids."

I smile warmly into the embrace and pat Craig gently on the back, "maybe you can come visit me when Token comes."

Craig pulls back and without missing a beat or glancing in his best friends direction he shakes his head. "He wouldn't want that, and besides…I'd just drive him up the damn wall he'd end up killing me." He adjusts himself so that he's giving me more of a half hug rather than a full throttle one. "And between you and me, Token must be crazy if he thinks I've given up hope." He lets go of me and winks as he happily settles himself back down on the chaise lounge chair he was once occupying.

I blink in surprise, but before I can say anything the sound of my cell goes off and I flip it open in wonder at the number of Mr. Zanadaci's office.

"Mr. Zanadaci," I say eyeing Stan who looks considerably more interested. The others eye us before falling back into a quiet conversation of their own.

"Mr. Broflovski! I'm happy I was able to reach you! It's been awhile it seems."

"Kyle," I correct him automatically and he chuckles on his end of the line.

"Right, in any case I have been trying to get a hold you and Mr. Marsh all day. But he isn't answering his phone."

"You're not answering your phone?" I hiss at Stan, holding the speaker on my phone. "Mr. Zanadaci's been trying to call us all day."

He shrugs, "left it at the apartment."

I shake my head and uncover the speaker, "well sorry about that Mr. Zanadaci, but what can we help you with?"

"You're not busy at the moment are you? I hear voices in the background."

"No it's fine," I rush out. "It's just a…party, on my behalf."

"Ah, since you are leaving tomorrow correct? After all, that is when the agreement is officially over."

"Yeah, and I've been meaning to call you too actually. Sorry, I'd been so wrapped up in packing, and saying goodbyes, and making sure all my stuff was in order. I wanted to know how we go about like…getting this all sealed and what not."

"That's the exact reason for this call actually. If the two of you aren't too busy I was wondering if you could drop by my office this evening or even tomorrow morning before you leave?" He pauses. "Just to go over some last minute things. I want to make sure everything is finalized for you two, and I suppose I must admit that I would like to say my own goodbye's to you as well."

"Of course Mr. Zanadaci," I say feeling something catch my in throat. It's gotta be all the hugs and the proclamations of people missing me. Because it's all officially settled in my head. I'm out of here in just a day or so. "I'm sure Stan and I can drop by tonight," I glance at him and he shakes his head. "Or, no I guess tomorrow morning would be better."

"That's fine, as long as I see you boys together one last time. Well, I don't want to burden your party any more than is necessary. You two have a wonderful evening and I expect to see you soon?"

"Right, have a good night Mr. Zanadaci."

"You too," he says and hangs up his end of the line.

I snap my phone shut before stuffing it back in my pocket. "We're going to meet with him for last minute stuff."

Stan nods, "I expected something like that."

"So what do you guys get out of this agreement anyway?" Craig suddenly asks. "I mean, everyone knows that Kenny outlined this crazy thing, but no one knows what you guys get out of it."

"No one knows?" Stan questions suspiciously as he turns to him.

"Well not exactly, but there are rumors," Mercedes answers.

"Hm, but no one's quite sure what his terms were. It was Kenny after all so it goes from nothing, to you having to drink each other's blood and in the end you get a buried treasure or some such bullshit," Token finishes.

Both Stan and I laugh, "I guess," I say glancing at Stan. "That the buried treasure is as close to the truth as anything."

"What, really?" Craig wonders his eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Something like that," Stan answers noncommittally.

Before we know it the three of them are hounding us for the details of the agreement. Stan and I dance around their questions for awhile, but finally answer them. There isn't anything worth hiding. To say they look nothing short of amazed when we tell them is to put it lightly.

"Whoa," Craig breaths out.

"I never knew he had that much money," Mercedes bites her lip and looks off.

Token shakes his head, "we should have known really. He worked so hard and there was nothing to show for it. No new car, clothes, didn't go to college, we really should have known."

"And to think he's leaving it all to you lucky bastards," Craig grins at the thought.

"Yeah, but it was never about the money," Stan interjects firmly. "There were some of his personal belongings and the idea that I just wanted to do the last thing he'd ever ask of me."

I'm nodding my head in agreement, but of course I can't say those are my only reasons. They go deeper because of that letter Kenny wrote me, and wanting to discover who he was and who Stan was. But it was definitely never about the money.

"There you children are!" We all turn at the sound of Chef's voice and see him and everyone else hovered around him. "We were wondering what happened to the five of you. Come on now, don't hog Kyle. This is the last we'll see of him too, at least for awhile."

With an exchange of looks and smiles I do as Chef suggests. As I head back inside though, I realize that Stan, Mercedes, Craig, and Token remain outside. Now they're talking about Kenny in a way that I probably will never be able to relate. Which is fine. I'm realizing that as much as I'm trying to soak up information on the guy I simply won't ever have that connection that the others do. I'll never really know about his personality having been unable to experience it first hand, save that brief encounter at Stanford.

Eventually though, the day wears on and at some point everyone's back inside and we enjoy each other's company as a whole. When people start having to leave because of prior engagements I start to get a heavy heart. The hugs are endless, the tears (from mostly the girls) do a huge number on my heart strings. But I just keep reminding them, reminding myself that I'll be back. Stan enforces that thought, and with every time he enforces it I give him a suspicious but appreciative look.

And when the only people left are me Stan, Craig, and Token I almost want to change my mind and tell them I have no intention on leaving. I've had too much fun, and not just tonight, but being in South Park. Pretending I lived here, and fitting in, but actually sticking out. How I was ever able to leave this place one time I can't even remember. Having to leave a second time?

"Do you guys need help cleaning up?" I ask Craig as Stan and I near the front door. I just cant fathom leaving. Now I want to do everything in my power to stay here, in this house. To make my "party" last as long as possible,

"Nah, we'll be fine," Craig answers with a smile.

"Speak for yourself. I didn't know I'd be signed up for cleaning duty when I got here," Token grumbles.

"Then Stan we should stay and help," I say to him already stepping a foot back into the place. I'm carefully blocked by Token though and I give him a confused look.

"Really Kyle, we'll be okay. It's not like it was a drunken rave. We all had what? One, two beers max? Besides don't you have to finish packing or something?"

"Oh," my shoulders slump. "You're right…I do, well…" I look at the two of them. Craig's got one arm over his head as it rests on the side of his door, and Token's standing calmly in front of him with both hands in his front jean pockets. "I, um…"

I feel Stan nudge my back and it only makes me clench my jaw tightly. "I guess I'll see you guys?"

"You know it!" Craig says. "Just because you're leaving doesn't mean you've gotten rid of me!"

"Or me," Token adds, albeit less enthusiastic as Craig. The guy just doesn't have the same levels of excitement as his best friend.

"Right," I nod firmly and decidedly. I will see these guys again. Token for sure in a month like he said, and I'll make sure to drag Craig to California one day. I have a feeling he'll hate it, but he'd enjoy having stories to share about why he hated it the second he got get back here.

"Come on," Stan speaks up and I feel him land his hand carefully on my back. "Before you start crying," he mutters teasingly.

Normally I might fight him on that, but I don't think he's too far from the truth. Not to say I'm about to start bawling, but it was already hard to let go of Chef, the girls, and all the others. Craig and Token? They're twice as hard because we got so close in the last few weeks.

Before I know it I find myself back in the car with Stan, with him driving. I don't say a whole lot on the drive, but I make note of certain things that happened at my party. Just the little things like how I think Lexus and Clyde would make a good couple. And I make a point in telling Stan what Craig whispered to me earlier about his not giving up on Token.

"Not surprised," he says. "Craig can be annoyingly stubborn."

"Yeah…it'll hurt twice as much when he realizes he's truly vying for a lost cause though don't you think?"

"Probably. But Token'll handle it well or at least in a way that's best for him and Craig. But enough about other people. I was pretty good at staying away from you and letting everyone else have you since they won't see you for some time, but this is also the last time I'm going to see you for awhile too you know."

I don't meet his eye. I can't. Because I do know, and the very thought depresses me more than I thought it ever would.

When we get home I let him open the door for me, and I let him close it too. Both the car, and the apartment. And once we're inside and our jackets and shoes have been pealed off we're left staring at each other and I'm left wondering about what we should do now.

**Stan**

At the risk of coming on too strong, I stay a subtle distance away from Kyle. A hard feat considering he's only a few inches from me, staring me down the way I am with him. This is really our last night together, in the home we made here. I can hear and feel all the memories we created in just 4 ½ months. The pain that was our first experiences, the resistance, the fighting, then the getting along. The friendship that was established once more, the cooking, the visits from Mr. Zanadaci…and then the happenings after that.

The few times we shared a bed together as Kyle held me tight as I broke down and then how quickly things changed and I was holding him as I kissed him senseless months later.

All that is ingrained in my mind and I can see that Kyle is reliving those moments as well. It sounds cliché but we honestly wasted so much time in the beginning. Entirely my fault and I'm willing to admit that. If I had just forgave him faster, not pulled away from him so much I wonder if I would be feeling this sense of loss, as if nothing that I really wanted has been accomplished.

When we were at Craig's I had to distance myself from him. Not for the selfless reasons that I'm having him believe, but because if I didn't I wouldn't want to share him and that's not fair to everyone else.

I feel my fingers tingle and a warm feeling settles inside of me. Reaching out my hands I rest them on Kyle's shoulders. He glances at them before turning to look back at me expectantly. I pull him in closer, he's now entirely too far away. As he steps toward me, my arms slack and end up draping over his shoulders and I realize he's kinda caught in my embrace. But he walked into it of his own free will.

"I-" my voice comes out scratchy and more emotion filled that I imagined it would. It makes me redden slightly and I look down briefly to clear my voice before looking back up at him. "I'm going to miss you," I say what I meant to say.

Kyle nods, and I watch him swallow a huge lump that seems to appear from nowhere.

"Time went by a little faster than I would have liked," I add and at that he smiles slightly.

"In the beginning you would be saying that time isn't going fast enough," he says and I smile with him, having no choice but to agree.

"True," I tilt my head to the side.

Then without too much warning Kyle wraps his arms around my torso and brings me the last tiny steps closer to completely close our gap. He rests his head into my shoulder and doesn't move from there, but I can feel the rush of breath come from his mouth and I can feel his body inhale and exhale just a little faster.

"I don't want to go home," he mutters into my shoulder, but it's easy to decipher. "Not yet anyway. I'll miss you too, you know. And we've barely even…because of me."

"It's not because of you."

"Don't say it's because of Bebe," he says quietly ad I squeeze him lightly. That had been exactly what I was planning to say, but I wont if that's what he wants.

"I won't let you stay here," I say instead. "You have to go back to school, and your life in California."

He makes some sort of protesting noise before he raises his head from my shoulder to look at me. "That's not a very…in this kind of situation I would expect you to be selfish and ask me if I would stay here…" he lowers his eyes. "I can easily transfer to South Park Community."

"That'd be going backwards in education," I point out. "Besides we don't have…wait a second," I stop for a moment.

"What is it?" he asks.

"What _are _you majoring in?"

With that Kyle starts to laugh and leans back into me, laughing into my shoulder. I follow suit a few moments later and as it eventually dies down I stroke his red curls briefly. "But no, really," I ask.

He leans back and looks at me questionably, "hm, I guess you never have asked, and I guess I never really did divulge. What do I look like I'm majoring in?"

I groan and he only grins.

"Come on, given everything you know about me now, what would you expect me to do?"

"If we're talking about what I know now, I'd say something like personal shopper or fashion designer," he snorts and I nod. "But exactly, those kinda things don't fit you for a career." I eye him critically. "I don't know, despite your obsession with current trends I see cant see anything except the nerdy kid who freaked out if he didn't get an 'A' in everything he did. And," I press pointedly. "Kenny had said you had been carrying a ton of books when he bumped into you…"

He shrugs, "I'm going to go into surgery."

I blink, "that's…gonna be hard."

"It is, but I love it."

"…what kind of surgery? Are you going to be able to repair my heart if something happens to it?"

"No, I'm going into reconstructive surgery."

"…so plastic surgery."

"No," he says firmly. "I only want to do reconstructive, not cosmetic. I'm not a fan of people who were born with perfectly good faces and bodies but want to change them because the media said so."

This coming from a guy who has no reason to ever get it.

"So, you're the doctor I would turn to if there was a freak accident in the kitchen and my face got burned off?"

"Don't say something like that," he mutters and leans back into me. "But yes."

"How cool…and it suits you."

"Thanks…" he sighs. "Is it okay if I just sleep here?"

"Standing up?" I question, grinning.

He pinches my back affectionately and I swat his hand away. "I get it…and yeah. I'd like that too. But what about your packing?"

He gives me a pathetic look, "can you finish it when I'm not here and mail the rest to me?"

I roll my eyes, but nod. "Let's sleep in your bed," I decide.

"Mine is smaller."

"I know."

He gives me a warm smile and we quickly find ourselves changed and settled into his bed together. It's odd to think that the last time we shared a bed it was because I was unable to sleep thinking Kyle would be breaking the agreement and would be leaving the next morning. I had needed his presence even though he'd been ready to leave me. And even then, I went to my own bed sometime after that. The other times we shared a bed, or couch in the case of Christmas night, were always because I needed his comfort. Though, I hadn't been able to admit it at those times.

Funny that we never shared a bed since, especially given our current relationship status. Not that it hadn't occurred to me, but I wasn't sure if it occurred to Kyle and I didn't want to ask.

Just like those times Kyle's bed is still a bit on the cramped side. But there's just something about sharing a bed that's small with someone you care about. It's like it forces you to be closer to that person and I like that feeling.

"So what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"About what?"

"About me being in California and you being in New York."

I hesitate. Of all the things I would like to talk about in this last night together, my promotion is not it. "I haven't decided if I'm going to take Zanadaci's offer."

"I got that feeling at the party, and…" Kyle shifts and he props himself up on his elbows to look down at me. "You have to! It's an incredible offer, why _wouldn't _you?"

"Well," I prop myself up too. "I know it's an incredible offer and all that but…that just means that," I pause and turn my eyes away from him. "That means _we'll _be that much further apart."

There's silence on his end and I rush on.

"Besides we're not known for our skills in long distance relationships Kyle."

"That's true," he mutters out and I turn back to face him. I know there's apprehension written all over my face and he looks to be thinking something over. I don't like the look of it. It seems like he's weighing something over in his head.

"Kyle?" I question.

He meets my eye slowly and at seeing his eyes come to some sort of conclusion I take in a sharp breath.

"I'll transfer to New York."

"What?" I ask dully. "You can't be serious."

"I am. It won't be too hard," he says and I can see the wheels turning in his head. "I can easily get into NYU, and Wendy will be there…not to mention the shopping in New York City is incredible, and-"

"No," I state firmly.

"What do you mean no?"

"You can't just…you can't just pick up your life and move to New York for no reason."

"There is a reason."

"_I_ can't be a reason for you leaving your school, your family…Kyle you love California!"

He scoffs, "you act like you're not doing the same thing if you were to leave Colorado. You'd be leaving family, friends, and you love Colorado," he says throwing my own words back at me.

"Yes but-"

"But nothing," he cuts me off. "It's not as if I'm uprooting to be with some guy I just met a few weeks ago. It's _you _and I've known you all my life."

I frown at him and he grins slyly.

"Okay, give or take eleven missing years," he adds cheekily. "Besides," his voice softens. "I've kinda gotten in the habit of having you around. Of knowing your mannerisms, what sets off your temper, what makes you laugh…and you know Kenny set this whole thing up. He wanted us to be together. It seems almost…sacrilegious to go our separate ways now. I'm completely attached to you."

"Kyle-"

"I mean I will have to go back to Stanford to finish off the year, deal with transfer applications and all that, but after …I mean why not Stan? Didn't you just say we don't do well with long distance? Doesn't that mean we'll just have to stay together?"

I stare at his excited and hopeful eyes. It's too much isn't it? Too sudden…too unrealistic? Right? But even thinking that it's hard to disagree with him. He's willing to go to New York with me and to be perfectly honest I didn't _want _to turn down Zanadaci's offer, and I'm thrilled that Kyle was prepared to make me take it even if it meant we had to live on opposite ends of the country.

"And it's not like we can't afford it," he adds and at that I start to laugh. He joins me for a second before he stops to raise his hand and gently caress it down my cheek.

His gesture though reminds me of our situation and my own laugh halts, "but what if we don't work out?"

Kyle doesn't stop his petting of my cheek, and he looks thoughtful as he ponders the question. "Good point," he says slowly.

"We've already proved that there are few people besides the two of us that can get on each other's last nerve…what if one day you get sick of me?"

"I guess," he starts and pulls his hand back down to his side. "That's a chance we're taking…but, I can't imagine that. And I don't think I'm saying that because I'm caught up in the here and now. Kenny believed in us when we weren't talking, when he must have known we'd be almost bitter enemies at first…and now look at us. You're not just my boyfriend, but you've become my best friend too."

"And Bebe?"

"I can have one more than best friend."

"…maybe we should think about it more."

"I don't want too," he says bluntly and almost childishly. "If we do that you'll convince yourself it's a bad idea."

"Maybe it is."

"You're the one who was thinking about turning down the career advancement of the century to stay a few states away from me. We're going to do this Stan, and it's going to work out. You'll see."

I'm still unsure about it. I really wish I would just jump into his idea. It's like we've reversed roles all of a sudden. Kyle was the one that was hesitant to start our relationship and now I'm the one who's hesitant to take it further. Of course all his points are valid, but I can't help but think that maybe I'm not worth it for him.

"But enough with that," he says and I watch as he leans over me and kisses my lips slightly. "This is my last night here and after this I won't even be able to look at you for at least six months. Let's do something memorable okay, just like the rest of the day was."

It's hard to keep up the façade of wanting to talk things through further when he's said something like that. I'll resign for now, but that's not to say this conversation is over and done with. We can always talk about it more when he's back at Stanford.

"Though," he says lightly and I tremble at the feel of his fingers dragging down my bare chest as he slips his hand under my shirt. "I guess if we do move to New York together you might have to work on being able to tell me you love me without stopping mid sentence."

My eyes widen, but they're quick to flutter shut when I feel Kyle's hand glide down my stomach and stop momentarily at the point where it meets the band of my sleeping boxers.

"Because I feel the same," he mutters and kisses my ear resulting in an explosion of feelings from me. Not just because of the kiss, or his wandering hands, but because of what he said. He danced around the phrase, but I can feel with each kiss and caress that his feelings are sincere.

I wonder if this is exactly what Kenny had in mind. I can't imagine it is, and the mere thought makes me redden. To think he'd think things this far through. He couldn't possibly have anticipated this sort of end for Kyle and I…could he?

But, like they say there's a fine line between love and hate. Except, I never hated Kyle and he never hated me…so where does that put what we have?

Oh fuck it.

They'll be other, more appropriate, times to think that sort of thing through.

-

I release a loud and long yawn as I strap myself into the car. Kyle's going to be driving as we head into town to go meet Mr. Zanadaci as he requested of us yesterday. I didn't get that much sleep last night, and not because of the obvious. Even after Kyle and I were long spent and I decided over and over that I couldn't imagine living without this guy, I stayed wide awake as he fell asleep. It's good he fell asleep though since he's driving back to California rather than flying. It was a last minute decision on his part, to drive that is.

He decided he'd rather take in the scenery one more time, and besides we hadn't thought about how we were going to get his car from here back to the west coast.

I hadn't fallen asleep because I didn't want to. I wanted to be awake as I held onto him, so I could watch him sleep. And it wasn't hard…because I kept looking at him. His red curly hair, and his light red eyelashes as they rested against his light skin. He's mine. And that was a hard fact to swallow.

When I constantly thought back to how things were when he first got here I cant for the life of me piece together how we went from what we were, to what we are. If I had had things my way from the start I would have been married by now, to Bebe.

Something that, in this current mindset, is unthinkable.

"So what exactly do you think we have to do?" Kyle asks as I climb into my car's passenger seat.

"Probably sign papers in order to collect the money," I say as Kyle starts the car.

He shakes his head, "that isn't it. I checked my balance today out of curiosity when you were in the bathroom."

"Oh yeah?" I ask curiously.

"Yeah, and I nearly fainted. Every dime is there."

"Really?" I wonder slowly, leaning back in the seat. "Then I wonder what he wants to meet us about. Maybe some last minute lawyer paperwork?"

This time he nods. We drive to the office and are surprised to see that there is a 'for sale' sign on the building. Exchanging confused looks we walk in and see boxes littering the floor. The old plants and frames are gone, as well as the reception room furniture, along with the secretary.

"Ah, boys!" We hear him call from his partly opened door.

We walk into his office, seeing that it's in the same state as the reception room.

"Moving?" I ask, looking at all the packed things. The only piece of furniture in the room is that large desk of his.

"Yes, to a bigger place up in Denver, I've got a partnership pending."

"Congrats then," Kyle says with a smile and Mr. Zanadaci beams at me. "Thank you Mr. Broflovski."

"Kyle," he says exasperated, but good natured all the same.

He chuckles, "you kids and your generation. The whole lot of you has just dropped formalities. Anyway," he claps his hands together and takes a key from his pocket. "The reason I called you both here."

Kyle and I watch as he opens a locked drawer and extracts a single envelope. "The money is in both your accounts," he says, locking the drawer.

"Yeah I saw it all," Kyle speaks up.

"Ah did you? What is your reaction?"

"I'm pretty dumb struck."

"Yes, its one thing seeing those numbers on a piece of paper, it's another seeing them in your own account, knowing they aren't going anywhere. Now, all the information regarding the stocks and bonds will be mailed to you, but I do have a few statements for you here," he says handing me a folder that has been resting on a box.

I feel Kyle look over my shoulder before he rests his chin on it as I flip through the pages. It doesn't make much sense to me. Mr. Zanadaci seems to see the confusion on my face; I imagine it's on Kyle's as well.

"There's also a card in there, a number of a dear friend of mine. He's a financial analyst and can break down what all that means for you both. He's yours Kyle," he says handing him a separate folder. He takes it with a nod removing his head from my shoulder.

"Thanks," he says absentmindedly as he flips through the meaningless numbers and confusing terms.

"Was that all?" I ask curiously, eyeing the small envelope in Mr. Z's hand. The one he took from his locked drawer but has yet to mention.

The older man chuckles, "of course not. I see you both eyeing the envelope in my hand." He hands it to the both of us. "A last little note from Kenny, I was advised to give it to you _after_ the 4 ½ months had passed."

I feel my heart thump in my chest. Another letter? I take it hesitantly.

"Well then, feel free to open it here. I'm going to go in the front room and make a call, leaving you two some privacy. In case you have any final questions just come out and ask me," Mr. Z says and leaves with a smile when we don't reply.

Kyle and I sit slowly on the large desk, I silently hope Zanadaci wont mind, but my main attention is on the letter I'm starting to crush with my hand.

"What…what do you think it says?" I wonder, turning to Kyle.

"How should I know, open it," he says smiling, squeezing my free hand. He lets it go to allow me to open the letter. As I unfold it I feel him lean closer to get a better look so I angle it slightly so we can both read it comfortably.

It's in the same chicken scrawl as the last letters he wrote and I have to pause to get a hold of myself. I hadn't thought I'd get any more messages from him. Knowing that I get one more…I close my eyes to calm myself down. I can feel that I'm shaking and if Kyle hadn't taken this exact moment to rest a hand on my shoulder I'm sure I would have started crying without having read a damn word. Taking a deep breath and giving him an appreciative glance I turn my attention to the six or so pages of the last thing Kenny will ever say to me.

I start out reading slowly; trying to envision the location he mentions right off the bat. Trying to envision him writing this and as I continue to read my palms start to get sweaty, and my throat starts to get drier.

"That son of a bitch…" I said breathlessly as I finish reading. I'm not sure what to feel now. He said not to over analyze in his letter, but I'm wondering how that's possible! I've never felt so…angry, and depressed, and embarrassed, and proud, and ashamed all at the same time. "I didn't know him at all," I say resolutely. "_Fuck_!" I curse loudly, shoving the letter off to Kyle. "How could he…he doesn't want me to over analyze that?!" I cry out pointing to the letter. "That stupid, stupid…fucker," I mutter and sag myself against Kyle.

Kyle says absolutely nothing. Instead he wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close and I lean in closer, more grateful for his presence than I've ever been.

"Hey," I speak up quietly after some time in silence. I can still hear Mr. Zanadaci's muffled talking from the lobby. Kyle still says nothing but I feel his eyes lower to acknowledge me. "Let's go visit Kenny."

There's a hesitation before I feel him nod. "Okay," he says simply.

Without waiting for another second to pass we stand up together and taking our files and the letter we head into the reception area. When we walk in Mr. Z halts his conversation before looking at us expectantly. There's that same twinkle in his eye he occasionally gets, but I shake my head tiredly. He smiles and holds out his hand, shaking mine and Kyle's. "It was wonderful to work with you three," he says holding the phone against his neck.

"Yeah," Kyle says for the both of us. "Thanks for everything Mr. Zanadaci."

"Anytime boys, and if you ever need a lawyer…"

"You'll be the first one we'll call," I say firmly.

His smile widens if at all possible before he points to his phone, letting us know that he has to return to his call. "Goodbye boys and best of luck with all your future endeavors."

"You too," we both say together and leave his office with a couple wavering smiles and hesitant waves.

"Oh Kyle?" Mr. Z calls out last minute. Kyle looks at him questionably while Mr. Zanadaci gives him the oddest smile I've ever seen him give. "Please say hello to my nephew for me."

"Your…nephew?" He asks sounding puzzled.

He nods, "I think he has people call him Frey. Z, when they want something?"

I watch as Kyle's eyes widen in disbelief and his mouth opens as if he wants to say something but he can't quite find the words. Instead he nods and casts Ken's lawyer one more look of astonishment before we leave.

Quietly we head back into my car and I watch as Kyle's eyebrows crease in deep thought. "Z…Zanadaci…he had said we wouldn't be able to remember his name," I hear him mutter. "Hey Stan?"

"Hm?"

"What are the chances that Kenny, you, _and _I would _all_ have a Zanadaci watching over us?"

I loll my head to the side to glance at him before lolling it back to face the front window. "Apparently not slim as we'd like to think. Talk about one interesting family…somewhere down the genetic pool Kenny must be related to them."

He nods to himself and an hour later we find ourselves at the cemetery, looking down at Kenny's grave next to the large tree that overlooks him. Kyle and I stand side by side, not saying anything. It occurs to me that the last time we were at Kenny's grave together I didn't like him. Now there are few I love as much as I do him. Funny, how things work out.

As I focus more on the graves inscription I take note of the little saying that's beneath his death date. It says: _God works in mysterious ways…and so does Kenny. _

It wasn't my idea to have that inscribed; in fact when I first saw it I was surprised and a little creeped out. I'm the one that had been in control of everything concerning his funeral and burial. His parents handed it all over to me, but I hadn't known anything about that inscription. I had asked a bunch of people if they knew anything about it and no one did. I guess now that I think about it, the person to ask should have been Mr. Zanadaci, Ken's lawyer.

At the same time, it's…reassuring to not know how this inscription got on his grave. Its saying is true and in a way, more so now than before, it makes me laugh. Kenny's happy, wherever he's at, knowing he's an ethereal mystery to everyone he knew.

The sound of Kyle shifting quietly to the side of me puts me back in the present. There was a slight reason for me coming here. I just wanted to tell Ken a couple of things, silently, as we stood over his grave.

I'm okay now, I mentally tell him, after months of not really being okay.

I still miss him, and I still would rather him be alive than dead, but it doesn't hurt so much now, because I have Kyle…and, I realize I have Craig, and Token, and the Zanadaci brothers, my parents, and I have Chef. I'm not quite as alone as I thought I was.

"I still miss you terribly," I say out loud suddenly. "But…" I glance over at Kyle briefly before turning back to Ken's grave. "I really am good now, so if you were worrying you don't have to anymore. I _am_ happy Kenny, so thanks."

I lean over slightly and find Kyle's side. He wraps an arm around my waist and it solidifies to me that he's there. He's breathing, he's alive, and he's with me.

I'm in good hands, I tell Kenny.

When I got here I never intended to cry. I didn't feel sad, I felt like things were falling back into place since he's death, but the tears suddenly came anyway and I couldn't do anything to stop them.

"Sorry," I mutter more to Kyle than Kenny. I know Kenny didn't like criers, but I'm not sure what they started from. "I'm sorry," I say again and Kyle squeezes me slightly.

"We can stay here as long as you like, I'll stay here with you alright?" He says.

"Even though you might ruin your favorite Diesel jeans?"

"I've already ruined my Marc Jacobs and my Lacoste haven't I? Clothes aren't_ that _important." He replies.

So that's what we do, we end up staying. When standing becomes too much we plant ourselves down against his tree and I find myself telling Kyle more and more about him. I haven't really, since he asked all those months ago. But I feel the need to right now, and he's good at listening. He asks a few clarifying questions every once in awhile but other than that he never interrupts.

When my voice starts to get hoarse and I start to get cold and hungry I stop talking. "We can go," I tell Kyle and he immediately stands, stretching slightly, before bending over to help me up.

As we brush our pants off from the dirt, I eye the place Kenny's resting and promise him that I'll be back to visit. But I also promise never to visit yearly on his death date. No one would hate people visiting them more on the day they died than Kenny.

I can practically hear him say, "_Visit me on the day I _died_? That sounds morbid, you should go out and have a party to celebrate how fucking awesome I was. Then bring me a Mac and Jacks. Maybe I'll be able to taste it if you pour it over my headstone_."

I suddenly laugh, realizing that's something Kenny would more likely want me to do. Bring him a beer, even though he's gone.

You could make him up to be anything you wanted him to be. He could defy everything he ought to have been…but he'd still want a beer over hard liquor or wine anytime. You couldn't take that much of the redneck out of him, not even he could.

"Ugh, I'm hungry," I moan out when we get back to my car. Kyle drives without even asking.

"Want me to cook you up something when we get home?"

"I'm hungry, but I don't want to join Kenny," I tease and finally after all the seriousness Kyle laughs and I join him. "Nah, I have enough energy to cook. In the mood for some swordfish and pasta?"

"Ken's favorite, you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," I glance out the window. "Besides, it's fitting with the letter and visiting his grave and all. You'll like it; I've never been able to make anything better."

**Kyle**

With Stan being in the state he's in I haven't wanted to bring up what I thought about Kenny's last letter to us. I'm not quite sure what to think of it. I always took him to be somewhat all knowing, but sometimes his precision in what he said…

Just who was Kenny McKormick exactly? That's something I don't even think Stan knows the answer to. I wonder if anyone does.

Either way maybe the best thing to do is to not think about his letter and all the questions it's left me with. The number one thing being Stan, of course. After reading it I wonder too, if Kenny and I would have gotten along in the long run. Especially after I realized what I felt for Stan. At the same time I can't imagine disliking him, maybe there would have been some competition between us but how can you dislike a guy that so many people loved? I'd be in the minority, that's for sure.

After visiting Kenny's grave, and then rushing to the grocery store we find ourselves back in our apartment and Stan quickly shuts himself in the kitchen slaving away over the last thing he'll make for me. I watch him silently for awhile, thinking about a lot of things. That damned letter, Stan, me, and what I brought up last night. I am moving to New York with Stan, I don't care what he says. If there's one thing Kenny solidified for me it was Stan and I need to be together. Yes we want it, but it's a necessity.

He'll fight me on it, but not for too long. He wants it just as much as I do, but he's trying to play practical and frankly it's cute, but I won't have it.

We've shared this incredible apartment for four and a half months now. We've been together almost 24/7, so to be away from him permanently? It's not an option and in that respect Kenny would agree with me.

"What can I do to help?" I ask after I've watched Stan for awhile. I'm tired of watching him. I want to do everything with him, and that includes cooking.

"Well," he says carefully as he looks around at all the ingredients. "Think you want to try boiling water again so soon after the last time?"

I huff in anger as I head into the kitchen and pull out a pot as he laughs, "I think I can handle it this time around!" I snap at him.

"I'm glad to hear you've been practicing."

I'm half tempted to knock his head over with my pot but refrain from doing so.

"You can make the pasta if that's alright with you?" He asks, leaving the jokes aside and suddenly I'm nervous.

"Ergh, okay," I say as I turn on the faucet and run cold water into the pot before placing it on the stove top.

Just as Stan finishes taking the scales off the fish he nudges me lovingly with his elbow. "You'll do fine; I'll be with you every step of the way."

I nod feeling completely reassured knowing I'll be under his watchful eye.

Cooking with Stan is one of the things I'll miss most. Not that I got to do it too often, but when we did it was always fun. Even if there were a few accidents. It usually ended in laughter anyway, so that doesn't matter. And once we finish, and the table is set and we dig in to try what we created, I note something. Kenny has really good taste. In the people he cherished and the food he loved.

-

"I told you I'd make it back in one piece, you worry too much." I say first thing to Stan once I've successfully parked in front of my dorm building. I turn off my car and make my way to my trunk, hoping my friends will be around soon to help me get it all out. I called them before I called Stan and they said they'd be here any second, but I've yet to see a single one of them.

"Forgive me for having the shivers at the thought of loved ones driving through the curvy iced covered mountains. It's not as if accidents happen," Stan responds annoyed.

"Yeah I know," I say quietly thinking of Kenny. "And hey," I start to change the subject. I wonder if Kenny will ever be anything but a sore subject. "You'll never guess what I saw when I dropped by my parents place."

"What?"

"You remember that snow we mailed Ike the day before I left?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, its still snow. Not ice, not water, _snow._ I'm telling you it's the creepiest thing. My mom is freaking out over it but Ike seems smug, like he knew all along."

Stan snorts into his cell phone, "apparently your brother is smarter than you. Of course it wouldn't melt, its South Park snow. Though he's screwed once summer hits, that's the only time the snow melts remember? For that one day?"

I think over those rare and what we found to be, irritating days of summer in South Park. "Yeah, that's true," I respond as I rest my cell in the crook of my neck as I heave a suitcase from my trunk. From the corner of my eye I finally see Frey and a few other friends jogging toward me grinning like the fools they are. I give them a grin back and wave in their direction before pointing at my car, a gesture to get the rest of my stuff. I see a few good natured frowns but they do so after muttering a few "welcome backs," and giving me a few pats here and there. Frey winks at me as he grabs a box from the passenger's side.

"Tell your boyfriend I said hello," he mutters with a smile as he walks off.

My jaw drops and I almost drop my phone.

"Yo, Kyle you still there?" I hear Stan's voice.

I shake my head to myself, I'll talk to Frey later and not just about the boyfriend comment. But about his uncles. "Yeah I'm still here, just trying to get my stuff up to my room."

"Oh hey, I've been meaning to ask…are you sharing a room with anyone the rest of the semester?"

"Yeah I have to entering in the midst of it. It's only going to be a few months so of course there are no free rooms."

"…that's true," he mutters quietly into the phone as I wave to a few passing groups I used to live in the same hallway with. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"My old RA, I told you about him didn't I?" I ask fishing for my key to the building as I shut my car. "It's Freyr, everyone calls him Frey, and sometimes I call him Z when I want something. The Zanadaci's nephew?"

"Oh yeah, that guy…is he anything like his uncles?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does he know entirely too much?"

I laugh before thinking that over, "yeah. He's exactly like his uncles. You know, I think you had a point yesterday when you said Kenny must've belonged to the same gene pool as the Zanadaci's."

"He must, but say…is this Frey Z umm…well…" Stan trails off and I eye a door critically as if it's Stan I'm looking at. I suddenly break out a warm smile.

"Oh Staney are you jealous that I'm living with another guy?" I laugh into the phone as he curses me out for using Craig's nickname for him.

"I'm not jealous either!" He adds.

"Good. There isn't any reason to be. As far as I know, Frey doesn't swing that way but even if he did he'd never make a pass at me."

"Ergh, how do you know that, why _wouldn't_ he make a pass at you?"

"I'm touched that you think every gay guy is going to hit on me, but he's my RA Stan. Not only would it be against his own morals of getting involved with his "kids" it's against policy. So chill out, besides why would I sacrifice all the hell we had to go through to actually be together?"

"That's true," he mutters.

"You're going to have to work on that trust factor of yours."

Stan snorts, "I do trust you. It's everyone else I don't trust. But give me a break here, your states away and I'm moving to New York in a few months once the restaurant opens."

"I didn't really have to come back here at all. I could have done some distance learning, and I could have been happy taking a few classes in South Park Community as we waited to head to the big city."

"And I'm telling you it's a bullshit idea and to stay in Stanford where you belong with all your fashion trends, and hair product. And as much as I love the curly hair and the vampire pale skin, I know you love the natural bronze and straight hair look."

"That is true," I sigh. "It'd be hard finding a decent tanner and straightener for my hair in South Park. I was starting to get a little frustrated with the curls those last few weeks. Hey Stan?" I ask hesitantly.

"What is it?"

"…are you really okay with moving to New York?"

"You know I am, why?"

"I mean, have you really thought it through, because….aren't you leaving the place where Kenny is?"

There's a pause on his end of the line, "…That pit in the ground isn't him."

"Stan!" I start appalled.

"It's not. It's just a gravesite. A wooden box and stone tablet. That's not my best friend, besides Kenny hated South Park anyway. I doubt he'd want me to stay here for his sake."

"But," I start weakly.

"But nothing. We'll live in New York; I don't know why you're fighting it now. It was your damn idea!"

"Well yeah, but I don't want to make you leave your family behind, or the guys."

He sighs, "We've already been over this. They'll understand."

I'm quiet for a moment, thinking about this. "Yeah you're right, so before we get there can you make me a promise?"

"What's the promise?"

I shake my head, "just promise. I want you to promise before you agree to it."

"This line sounds vaguely familiar," he mutters but I ignore it. "Okay I promise. Now what have I promised?"

"That you'll let me take you shopping the second we get there."

"What?! Fucking hell, I knew it! You're still totally ashamed of me!"

"You're such an idiot," I sigh out. "Of course I'm not ashamed of you, I love you." His complaining stops and I grin as I imagine him reddening. "But you still dress like a hick," I add in.

He hmphs into the phone, "sorry if we're not all fashion savvy like you, sorry I don't give a shit."

I laugh as I walk into my room, seeing all my friends talking inside and chatting as they sit on half my stuff. "Besides," he continues. "I thought you said my rugged mountain look suited me?"

"It does…in a rugged mountain area. Please Stan! Just one shopping trip and if you don't like it, you can go back to dressing the way you want."

He groans into the end of his line, "What do I get if I waste my time shopping with you huh?"

"My undying devotion?"

"And if I don't want that?"

"Hey!" I laugh into the phone. "Fine, whatever you want. Think about it and I'll do it okay?"

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well…okay, I promise, but just don't back out when I think of something I want from you."

"I won't and on that _I _promise."

"Kyle man, off the phone!" One of the guys demands. "We need to start your welcome back party!"

"I hear protests of you talking with me," Stan says into the phone as I swat my friends away and head back outside the door, closing it behind me. I lean against the wall beside it idly watching my hallway peers walk past me talking, laughing, or listening to music.

"Yeah, but they don't know who I'm talking too."

"You going to tell them about me?" He asks curiously.

"Do you want me too?" I fire back.

"Is it the same assholes that made you ditch me eleven years ago?"

I frown, "no. I met all these guys here."

"You can if you want, I don't care either way."

I finger a bit of my hair. I can already feel the curls starting to loosen. It makes me sigh in relief. "Then I guess I'll tell them. Are you going to tell anyone back in South Park?"

"Who would I tell, I have a feeling everyone knows."

"That's true…we were getting looks the last few days. Who spread it, Craig?"

"Probably," Stan snarls at the mention of one of his closest friends.

"Kyle, dude we haven't seen you in months! Pay attention to us!" I hear a few whines coming through the door and I chuckle.

"I really am being called for. I'll call you back later tonight, is that okay?" I ask him warily but smiling all the same.

"No problem, I gotta get going here anyway. Zanadaci has been giving me the evil eye for the past five minutes."

I sigh annoyed, "well why didn't you say anything, we could have cut the conversation short."

"Nah, its okay."

"The _hell _it's okay, get off the phone!" I hear his boss's sharp angry voice.

"He can be so irritating," Stan mutters, probably hoping Zanadaci didn't hear that. "Anyway, don't forget to call me, I'll get off at the usual time."

"I won't forget."

"Good, oh and Kyle?"

"Yeah," I ask leaning up from the wall about ready to walk back into my room.

"I'm glad you came back to me."

I smile warmly. "Me too…but it was inevitable right? Didn't Kenny say he'd bring me back to you?"

Stan doesn't say anything though I can hear his musings, "that's true, and he hardly went back on his word. "Anyway I really gotta go…and I…love you too alright?"

"Yeah I know, how could you not?" I grin.

Stan snorts again, "bye Kyle."

"Bye Stan," I say and hang up the phone.

It's going to be hard, not being able to look at him and speak to him any time I want. Well, I guess I could call him whenever but even he has school and work, we can't be on the phone together twenty four seven, and its not like when we were in South Park. I had him with me, knowing he'd come back to our apartment, and that we'd get to have dinner together, and fall asleep together on my double bed.

I didn't know what would happen after we fulfilled the agreement with Kenny, and for awhile I didn't think we'd fulfill it at all. But we did. Stan got Kenny's stuff, we gained something I never imagined we'd get and of course there is the money. We'll both be millionaires in a few years, and you can't look too bad on that.

Sometimes it's hard for me to think…that this entire story of ours is completely based on a tragedy. That Kenny…

I shake my head looking up for a moment before reopening my dorm room, and being greeted by very exasperated impatient faces. I smile and shrug an apology.

"Alright Kyle," one of my friends says patting the spot next to him. "Let's hear about Colorado, since you didn't call anyone except Frey, and don't leave a thing out."

I laugh, "sorry guys," I say as I take my seat next to him. "But are you sure you want to hear all of it? It's sort of a long story."

"Of course we want to hear it, it must have ended happily."

"Why do you say that?" I ask curiously.

"Dude, you're_ glowing_. What happened, you score with a mountain girl?"

I laugh, "not_ exactly_…okay, you know how I had to go to my old friend's funeral awhile back?" They nod, "well…I guess it kinda started there. I was late to his funeral…and his burial."

"Nice," one of the guys says dryly and we all laugh. "What was the guy's name, the one whose funeral you missed?"

"Oh…" I smile. "His name was Kenny," I smirk glancing out the window toward the parting clouds heading south. "And he was one devious bastard," I mutter.

End of Part III

**AN: **Le sigh, I'm done. It's weird to think, but I am. Thanks so much everyone for all the reviews! I loved them all, and they made me laugh, giddy, and inspired so much more detail than I had EVER meant to include in this story! It's been more than a pleasure to write for all of you and your reviews meant so much to me!

Thanks for all the fanart, **Tara**, **Syn**, **JumpinPopTarts, **and **Lexi**. You girls ROCK. MY. FUCKING. WORLD! Love, hugs, and kisses, to everyone who ever reviewed and loved my story as much as I did!

Oh wait! And I said this before (somewhere, though probably not here) that I have a bunch of 'Deleted Scenes' if you will from this story. A lot of things didn't make the cut into the story and I kept a fair number of them for some reason. So if you want to read those you can! I'll be putting a link up in my bio so you guys can read them…I'll try to get it up by tomorrow night at the latest.


	42. Memories in f Minor

Short Stories with Tragic Endings  
**Memories in **_**f**_** Minor **

_To my two best friends -_

_10 miles east out of South Park on a dirt road that's to your left, partially hidden by shrubs you'll come across a crudely made sign. Probably made from the cheapest of plywood, it's held erect by a very wobbly stake in the ground. Spray painted in big bold blue letters it reads:_

'The Lord is kind and forgiving, so for the sake of yourself confess to your mess on Tuesdays.'

_Then it points in a general direction._

_Doesn't that sound like the perfect set up to get robbed, raped, killed or a combination of all three? _

_Naturally I went. I couldn't help it, I was curious. Not so much because of the message of confession, but because it just so happened to be Tuesday. Turning onto the road I didn't come across any other signs. No "you're almost there" or "turn backs" or anything dramatic like that. Just the dirt road and the hope that I'd learn what that sign was all about._

_I think I was expecting something grander, if not dangerous. Maybe the meaning of life, or at the very least my own. Maybe I thought I'd find the answer to questions I didn't know I had. All I found was a clearing before it dropped down the side of the mountain. _

_Turning off my car I stepped out and looked around thinking maybe I just wasn't looking hard enough. But there wasn't anything. No people, only a few sounds of birds and the sound of water. Which didn't surprise me. If my sense of direction wasn't off I should have been near Park Falls. But still…I wanted to see something more than just the mountain ranges in the distance and the look of deforestation. _

_I set myself on the hood of my car and looked at the view. It wasn't beautiful and I didn't appreciate it. I'm a mountain kid after all. I grew up in them; they didn't impress me._

_Either way I sat there and wondered what I should have done next. I could have simply left but that idea didn't appeal to me. Somehow, someway I was lured here, and not just by the sign, but I was supposed to confess to my mess. So I did just that._

_When I decided to do so it was like a bolt of lightening struck me, like the fingers of the Big Guy himself pinched me. I stood on the hood of my car and clenched my hands to my sides as I screamed out my confessions, wondering all the while if anyone was hearing them. Hearing _my_ sins. And fuck, was the list long. I screamed myself hoarse, and then when I couldn't think of anything else I fell off the side of my car and panted. _

_I must've looked like a fucking head case to the nearby birds. Just another human who'd lost it. I bet they expected me to fling myself off the edge of that cliff. But no, after regaining my normal breathing pattern I sat up ignoring the hard and dirty ground beneath me. I sat up because I remembered something I hadn't confessed._

_It was something I hadn't been able to confess to myself since the day I realized it was going to happen. After all those weeks of planning, and make sure my finances were in order, making sure my will was right, getting Zanadaci's approval I had pushed down my biggest secret. I swallowed it, because I didn't want to admit it to myself. I couldn't. If I did, I'd crack. I wouldn't have been able to do all that I did for the both of you._

_If I had confessed earlier…I would have lost my nerve._

_Well, anyway I did then. I glanced to the side at the not so beautiful mountain range and rather than haul myself back onto my hood I sat there like a little nine year old boy. Legs sprawled out in front of me and admitting something I never wanted to admit to myself._

"_I don't want to die."_

_I said it softly. It was hard to say, even though I just uttered it under my breath, but it was the truth. I don't want to die. I want to live, I want to defy my fate, my destiny. I want to have a future with the both of you. I don't _want_ to have fun in the afterlife. I want to have fun in the here and now. _

_I regretted then not telling Kyle who I was when I bumped into him at Stanford. I also regretted not telling Stan how scared I was. _

_But then that's how I am. I rely on no one. I couldn't. Not when so many relied on me. Not just Stan, but Token for the pressure he faces because of his social status, for Craig who loves Token, and yeah, in the gay sense of the word. For Butters who still to this very day can't stand up to his parents. For Clyde who lets other's opinions of him dictate how he acts…even the former Raisins. They relied on me too, did you know that Stan? Porscha knows she'll never have the brains, Lexus knows she can be nothing more than the friend in the middle, and Mercedes…Mercedes has her own demons. _

_How can I spill my own…frustrations and worries when there are so many who need my ear? Even you Stan. For all that I loved you I couldn't even tell you some of my secrets. It makes me feel guilty now. To know I hid so much from you, when you shared your world with me. I was a coward in that sense. How could I have not told the one person I loved more than the life I'm about to leave, that I didn't want to die?_

_I'm sorry. But I didn't know what else to do; I didn't know how to handle it._

_Neither of you can even begin to imagine how it is to wake up one day just _knowing. Knowing_ that some day very soon you are going to die. And that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you can do about it. To know you only have a limited time to do everything you've ever wanted to do._

_But I do know. And it sucks. _

_And yet…and here you guys should know I laugh. Yet, my dying makes sense. There isn't anything left for me to do. I've already done everything I've ever wanted to do and I did most of it before I was ten years old. I got to hang out and go on countless adventures with my best friends. That's the only thing I've ever really wanted. Just to be a kid and I got to be that. To be honest I never thought I'd even get to experience middle school, let alone high school._

_So as much as I don't want to die, and as terrified as I am over the thought of not coming back I'm still a little thankful I got to stick around as long as I did. _

_At the same time it still would have been nice to see how my little…project came along. And by project I do, of course, mean the two of you and whatever it is that I accomplished by forcing you guys back together in the most unorthodox way. Not to say I died to bring Kyle to South Park, I'm not a fucking saint. But as morbid as it is, it's a little funny how these things work out. _

_So…how was it? Living together I mean? Dealing with each others bullshit and old wounds that hadn't really healed but merely scabbed over? How many fights were there? How many times did you two want to throw in the towel and curse my incredible nature? I wonder who was the first to want to spit on my grave?_

_I realize what I did was very…underhanded, that my meddling might have caused a few problems…some heartache, I'm sure. But I hope everyone involved takes a step back to realize why I did what I did._

_Even with the pain I undoubtedly caused some people, in the long run I really was only aiming at people being happy. Mainly the two of you, specifically you Stan. You know exactly how I felt about your engagement to Bebe. You knew I wasn't happy that you hadn't told me you planned it, nor was I happy about you two being a couple in general. We both know she's not my favorite person, but that aside she wasn't making you happy. _

_Oh you smiled, and laughed with her. I'm sure you thought of your future together, your little house with the white picket fence, and 2.5 kids. And I'm sure the sex was satisfactory, but by now you must realize I only saw you as being content. Content is and never will be true happiness. Far too many people live content lives. I've spent a huge portion of my own life baring witness to that and I refused to allow my best friend to have such a fate._

_So I thought I'd change yours for the better._

_Though, honestly, bringing you two together was never the _original_ plan. I may be somewhat…observant, but I'm not a psychic. I can't see the future, so maybe no one will ever be reading this letter. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe Kyle went home. Maybe this letter is being recycled and made into cigarette paper, but I've got a feeling, a good one, that that's not it. I'm sure things turned out exactly as they should have, for the better._

_You're both together; I know it, in more ways than one. As you should be._

_You know, for as much as I would have loved to have been able to fill Kyle's missing void within you Stan, I realized somewhere along the line that it was impossible. That the only person who could fill that hole in your heart created when Kyle left, was Kyle himself. And please, don't for one second protest that. I know it's true, and it doesn't bother me._

_In a sense, I owe Kyle one. If he _hadn't _left I wouldn't have realized that I had the potential to be anything other than your side friend Stan. Perhaps it's best that it'll never be the three of us. For as much as I know my place, I can get slightly territorial when it comes to you. Now I wonder if Kyle and I really would have gotten along. There would have been some fighting, I think. Perhaps it's best I only got to see him that one time at Stanford. But, perhaps not. Who knows. _

_Well then all I have left to say is to tell Token to go easy on the car races, and for that matter tell Craig to go easy on Token. Remind Mercedes that she can be more than her supposed predestined path allows, or I'm sure Kyle can relay that message. I'll bet the two of them hit it right off. Oh and Kyle, should you ever run into Audi again (as I'm sure you have, and didn't you just have a fucking heart attack at looking at her?! I sure as hell did) give her a hug from me!_

_My two very good friends, I think now that you've both read this letter, completed the terms of my agreement, I suppose it's time I stopped meddling in your affairs. I guess you both can take things over from here, and I hope you do it well._

_Kyle, you _will_ take care of Stan for me. It's not a request really; it's more of an order. That's the guy I love more than anything. More than my friend, more than a brother. I lived and slaved away for his sake because I knew my day would come eventually. And you were gone, and he needed someone and I couldn't imagine leaving him alone. He's your responsibility now. It's gone back to you to push him in the right direction and make sure he continues to become the best chef this world has ever seen. He'll need your support and your devotion more than you might think. The guy heavily depends on his friends and I don't even think he realizes how much. I'm leaving you the most important person in my life to you, so don't fuck him up and don't fuck him over. You'll be sorry if you do, got it? I might be dead at this point, but don't think I don't have some pull with the higher ups._

_And Stan, ah Stan…I should leave you with some words of hope, of wisdom. Isn't that what seems appropriate at the end of a letter from someone who carved your path? Well, I haven't got any words of wisdom, not really. But…now that I'm long gone it wouldn't hurt, I think, to say something I've been waiting to tell you since I decided Kyle would come back to you._

_I'm glad you're happy. Happier than you ever would have been with me, don't deny it. While most of my days were consumed with thinking of you, and thinking of ways to make myself your equal you lived on in your blissful ignorance, always craving Kyle whether it was on a conscious level or not. And Stan…just, I already miss our times. Our talks, our adventures. The sorrow's we shared, the anger, the shame, every little thing that we did together. You were my partner in crime, my best friend…I was always so surprised that you choose me out of all our friends to call your best after Kyle left. I thought for sure it'd be Token. I'm glad it was me, I'm so happy you picked me. In a way you changed my life, because I felt I had to be your equal. I was the poor kid with nothing of value to his name, and you were the star everything. I wasn't even good at school at the time, I had to get better to be by your side. So in a way my success was due to you. And I thank you for it. You were my heart, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you every little thing about me. _

_You'd better be happy with Kyle. I promised you I'd return him to you someday, and I did. Don't forget that. Don't lose the one thing I worked so hard to get you. Don't lose the person I wish I could have been for you. I understand I couldn't have. Because, Stan, you're kinda like peach cobbler. A bit of a chemistry, but I'm more._

_Please don't waste too much time thinking all this over. What I feel for you is almost too complex for me to understand. Sometimes I wonder about myself, and why I love you more than I can explain. Maybe it's because you depended on me. Sometimes that dependency was just too much, and it created a web of intricate feelings I can't begin to unravel. _

_Ugh. Now I sound like a philosopher. The point is you two owe me big for doing everything that I've done. But I'm willing to push aside your debt as long as you guys take care of each other, because I'm relinquishing my hold on your fates. Remember to see the other's opinion and don't let petty fights tear you apart, because you two will never find anyone more perfect for you than each other. _

_It was fun being such a nosy bastard; it ensures I'll live on even after I die. Call me an attention whore if you'd like. It wouldn't be too far from the truth. But really, I've always wanted to die an enigma and I think I've done just that. _

_Love the coolest friend you'll ever have, Kenny M._

_Oh, shit, and one last thing. Stan, there's a little envelope in my box of crap. Can you give that to Craig? It's his watch from seventh grade. Remember how I swiped it from him when he was being an ass? And I told him I'd give it back to him over my dead body? Well, anyway, you get my drift. Thanks dude! _

.The End

**AN: **Mhm, epilogues. They're more fun when most of you don't see it coming yes? XD Well I promised awhile ago that I'd enlighten you on the song that more or less made me decide to do an epilogue in Kenny's POV. It's Muses' _Bliss_. And again, thanks for all the support throughout the year and a half that was this story. You've all made me very happy, and hopefully I've done the same. :)  


Yours truly,  
_Faery Goddyss _


End file.
